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Joan 


BLIND    WISDOM 


By 

AMANDA  BENJAMIN   HALL 


PHILADELPHIA 
GEORGE  W.  JACOBS  &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1920,  by 
George  W.  Jacobs  &  Company 


All  rights  reserved 
PrinUtimU.S.A. 


WISDOM 

Men  worship  knowledge  since  it  has  been  said 
That  by  it  they  may  reach  a  dizzy  goal, 
Yet  knowledge  is  the  hireling  of  the  head 
While  wisdom  is  the  tenant  of  the  soul ! 
Who  listens  shall  be  strong  as  he  is  wise 
Who  heeds  that  counsel,  braver  than  the  rest, 
With  vision  of  the  morning  in  his  eyes. 
And  chorale  of  contentment  in  his  breast. 

A.  B.  H. 


2136164 


Contents 

I. 

A  Journey 

•         •         • 

II. 

The  Milk  of  Human  Kindness 

III. 

Two  Ceremonies 

IV. 

A  Reckoning  and  a  Release 

V. 

LiSHABY       .... 

VI. 

A  Flowering  Friendship   . 

VII. 

Concerning  Claire    . 

VIII. 

Inconvenient  Originality 

IX. 

Blind  Wisdom    . 

'  1       • 

X. 

Dealing  With  Social  Salvation 

XL 

"  The  Play's  the  Thing  " 

. 

XII. 

Agnes  and  Domestic  Difficulties 

XIII. 

An  Audacious  Prince 

XIV. 

Jerry's  Dash  for  Freedom 

XV. 

Infatuation 

XVI. 

The  Valley  of  the  Shadow 

XVII. 

The  Pinch  o'  Poverty 

XVIII. 

A  Crisis  and  a  Compromise 

XIX. 

Joan  Stands  Up  to  Life     . 

XX. 

Godfrey  Assists  Fate 

XXI. 

Jerry  Asserts  Himself 

XXII. 

A  Difficult  Beginning 

. 

XXIII. 

A  Contract 

CONTENTS 


XXIV. 

Claire  Confesses 

248 

XXV. 

The  Rutherfords  Pay  a  Call 

265 

XXVI. 

Joan  and  Jerry,  Allies  .         , 

274 

XXVII. 

A  Midsummer's  Night     .         .         .         . 

285 

xxvni. 

"  The  Great  Gift  "       .         .         .         . 

295 

XXIX. 

Agnes'  Development 

305 

XXX. 

The  Revelation      .... 

3^8 

XXXI. 

Death  Demands  Hospitality 

331 

XXXII. 

The  House  of  Callendar 

335 

XXXIII. 

The  Right  to  Happiness 

.    349 

XXXIV. 

In  Which  Lily  Tells  a  Lie    . 

.     358 

XXXV. 

The  Harvest  Moon 

.     370 

Blind  Wisdom 


CHAPTER  I 
A  JOURNEY 

It  was  characteristic  of  Joan  Wister,  at  games  with  her 
imagination,  to  affirm  that  she  could  remember  the  day  she 
was  born.  She  remembered  quite  beautifully  being  a  brown 
paper  parcel  and  hooked,  as  one  sometimes  sees  meat  in 
butcher  carts,  to  the  top  of  old  Doctor  Bromley's  buggy. 
Obviously,  this  explanation  of  her  origin  had  come  to  her  in 
answer  to  a  particular  need, — the  need  for  some  explicit 
experience  to  write  on  the  first  page  of  her  memoiy.  Even 
at  seventeen  one  recalls  no  laborious  scroll  of  years,  but  a 
few  vivid  incidents,  picked  out  in  bright  colors,  and  as  one 
advances  in  years  the  brighter  and  more  living  they  become. 
The  first  day  at  school,  the  first  romance  of  childhood,  and 
thence  on  through  typical  episodes  of  spankings,  green 
apples,  bicycles,  skates,  parties  and  the  like  to  youngladydom. 
How  truly  yet  how  simply  might  a  life  be  portrayed  by 
such  glimpsings ! 

So,  further  along  in  her  career,  would  Joan  Wister  mark 
as  momentous  the  day  she  left  boarding-school  to  attend  her 
sister  Agnes'  wedding. 

The  scene  was  a  railway  station  of  the  sort  that  manages 
to  maintain,  even  in  an  unbecoming  rain-storm,  an  appear- 
ance of  extreme  respectability.  The  platform,  beneath  the 
widespread  skirts  of  the  roof,  fostered  a  colony  of  water- 
proofs and  umbrellas  like  some  curious  mushroom  growth  of 


10  BLIND  WISDOM 

the  day,  and  these  in  friendly  fashion  hobnobbed  and  dripped 
and  awaited  trains. 

All  about  the  oasis  of  shelter  the  rain  was  falling  in 
silver  chains,  persistently,  yet  with  a  certain  soft  discretion, 
forming  a  transparent  curtain  before  the  country  landscape, 
emerald  with  the  vividness  of  wet  colors.  The  feminine 
waterproofs  were  for  the  most  part  young  and  cltmg  like 
magnetized  needles  about  some  human  lodestone.  Their 
insatiable  pink  faces,  turned  upward,  were  like  the  earliest 
spring  flowers,  tulips  and  the  like,  that  seem  especially 
thirsty  for  the  sun  and  rain.  The  object  of  their  dutiful 
allegiance  proved  to  be  a  middle-aged  woman  with  a  dis- 
couraged plume  in  her  hat  like  some  outworn  grenadier. 
For  a  time  she  held  their  collective  tickets,  but,  after  an 
interval,  doled  them  out  as  one  would  a  pack  of  cards, 
appending  to  each  some  word  of  advice.  The  avidity  with 
which  the  tiny  scraps  of  cardboard  were  received  held  some- 
thing of  the  comic,  but  the  manner  in  which  they  were 
relinquished  carried  a  hint  of  fatality.  It  was  as  though 
she  feared  with  the  simple  act  her  authority  over  them 
might  cease,  and  upon  the  principle  of  perfect  control  Miss 
Bangs  and  Miss  Noyes  had  built  up  the  reputation  of  their 
school. 

Now,  in  mid-term,  certain  of  the  older  girls  were  destined 
for  the  signal  treat  of  week-ending  with  their  families  or 
relatives.  Beneath  the  regulation  blue  raincoats  one 
glimpsed  such  silk  stockings,  beruffled  blouses  and  natty 
travelling  costumes,  as  befitted  young  ladies  in  the  last  stages 
of  "  finishing." 

"  Oh,  Madame,"  piped  a  girlish  treble,  "  isn't  Joan  Wister 
lucky,  going  to  her  sister's  wedding?  All  the  years  I  have 
been  here  not  one  of  my  family  has  married — or  died.  Is  it 
true  she's  not  returning  ?  " 

"  Hush,"  urged  Madame,  and  turned  her  dark  eyes  appre- 


A  JOURNEY  II 

hensively  toward  a  slim  figure,  holding  aloof  from  the 
gaiety,  yet  rather  in  a  spirit  of  introspective  pleasure  than 
depression. 

Near  by  stood  a  probable  dry-goods  drummer,  occupied 
with  the  unprofitable  business  of  waiting.  Obeying  impulse, 
he  had  touched  a  letter  box  labelled  "  fresh  paint,"  and  later 
followed  his  inquisitive  bent  outside  the  shelter  of  the  roof 
to  see  if  the  rain  were  shamming  or  not.  He  was  rewarded 
by  a  resounding  crop  on  the  apex  of  his  nose  and  drew  in 
abashed.  Joan  Wister  laughed  her  private  enjoyment  of 
the  spectacle  and  in  her  young  eyes  was  reflected  a  human 
perception,  of  no  particular  age  or  period. 

Her  body  was  still  somewhat  flat  and  immature,  but  the 
little  face  was  winsome,  and  in  her  eyes  the  fires  of  intellect 
were  already  lighted.  By  her  very  capacity  for  joy  and 
suffering  she  was  fated  to  know  the  extremes  of  both. 
Never  fear,  she  would  pry  off  the  lid  of  Life  to  see  what 
made  the  wheels  go  round! 

The  French  woman's  eyes  misted  suddenly.  The  engine 
of  the  four-thirty,  swishing  a  long  tail  behind  it,  materialized 
like  a  Frankenstein  monster,  loose  in  the  domestic  greenness, 
its  bowels  fierce  with  fire  while  it  vociferated  steam.  The 
faces  of  those  who,  year  after  year,  had  conjugated  in 
indifferent  French  the  four  declensions,  had  become  for 
Madame  one  composite  face.  But  this  child  was  simpatica — 
and  the  Fates  were  snatching  her  away.  With  stoic 
determination  Madame  saw  to  the  departure  of  the  others 
before  she  revealed  herself  to  the  one  who  lingered  in  a 
panic  of  leave-taking.  As  Joan  reached  upward  to  the  older 
woman  it  was  with  a  fugitive  sadness;  her  body  swayed 
like  a  flower.  They  exchanged  some  broken,  inadequate 
words.  Then  she  clambered  desperately  up  the  steps,  handi- 
capped by  an  overgrown  bag  and  the  behavior  of  a  hat  too 
large  in  the  head.    It  would  insist  upon  slipping  backward 


12  BUND  WISDOM 

or  forward  or  over  one  ear.  But  she  attained  the  platforc 
and  sent  back  a  dazzling  smile.  The  sense  of  emancipatioi 
came  over  her,  drying  the  tears. 

"  I'll  never  forget  you,  dear  Madame,  but  I  mean  to  forge 
the  Noyes  and  the  Bangs  as  soon  as  I  can.  Tell  them,  te] 
them" — and,  as  one  of  our  modem  philosophers  ex 
presses  it,  "  with  exactly  the  same  happy  spirit  of  gratifica 
tion  with  which  babies  discover  light,"  she  discovered  in 
solence, — "  tell  them  if  they  teach  school  in  Heaven  they' 
find  me  in  a  class  below." 

"  Mechante ! "  cried  Madame,  shaking  a  finger  at  her. 

But  her  look  of  reproach  may  be  assumed  to  have  bee 
one  of  habit,  for  as  the  train  started  she  laughed  wit! 
wonderful  French  vivacity  and  threw  kisses. 

Alone,  upon  her  own  resources,  Joan  nursed  the  luckles 
bag  into  a  parlor  car  and  plumped  down  in  a  vacant  chaii 
She  had  been  unable  to  procure  a  seat  at  the  station  and  th 
necessity  for  doing  so  now  shouldered  sentiment  out  of  th 
way.  Being  essentially  of  chair-car  upbringing,  she  woul 
appeal  to  the  conductor.  .  .  .  Meanwhile  the  untame 
engine  was  gathering  speed  upon  its  way,  humming  an 
crooning  as  it  ate  up  the  cross-barred  fields  and  unimportar 
villages.  But  through  the  Titanic  lullaby  came  competin 
sounds  of  activity  and  of  dissension, 

"  It  distinctly  says,  *  Car  thirty-two/  "  a  woman's  voic 
was  arguing  with  refined  acidity. 

"  My  dear,  I  was  convinced  all  the  time  you  were  mi< 
taken.  I  remarked  that  the  three  looked  like  a  five."  Sue 
a  tone  of  sublime  superiority  could  only  mean  a  husban( 
and  such  he  proved  to  be.  "  Porter,  are  not  these  013 
seats?" 

"  Lemme  see.  Yas-sah,  sure  *nough,  dem  is.  How  com 
one  dese  seats  am  slightly  occupied?  " 

Joan  gave  a  furtive  glance  at  the  procession  and  then,  t 


A  JOURNEY  IS 

use  a  broad  Scotch  phrase  of  her  father's,  she  "  scooched 
doon  and  mad'  hersel'  wee."  But  a  face  like  the  full  moon 
stole  over  the  horizon  of  the  chair-back,  and  she  saw  that 
it  was  a  clergyman  who  had  thus  brought  her  to  justice. 
There  loomed  full  length  the  owner  of  the  face,  a  large 
gentleman  of  solid  proportions,  a  square  edifice,  as  it  were, 
of  the  most  select  materials.  Had  he  not  been  a  clergyman, 
he  might  have  shown  a  tendency  to  apoplexy,  but  under  the 
circumstances  his  color  knew  its  place  and  his  flesh  was 
evenly  distributed,  with  no  vulgar  pushing  or  crowding  at 
any  particular  point.  "As  though  he  grew  up  on  soda 
biscuits,"  she  thought,  impressed  by  his  smooth  surfaces. 

"  Do  you  hold  a  ticket  for  this  seat,  young  lady  ?  "  and  as 
she  answered  in  the  negative  he  reinflated  himself  to  satis- 
faction. 

"  Then  I  must  ask  you  to  move,  as  we  do  hold  the  ticket 
and  it  is  included  with  all  these." 

His  gesture  was  so  large  that  Joan  jerked  upward  to  ap- 
praise his  dominion.  Without  doubt  he  was  a  man  of 
property,  the  owner,  in  fact,  of  one  wife  and  some  four  or 
five  children  in  graduating  sizes,  appropriately  garbed  in 
rubber,  and  slinking  in  the  wake  of  their  parents  as  though 
to  say,  "  We  can  never  live  up  to  what  is  expected  of  us, 
but  in  our  suppressed  way  we  have  considerable  boimce  and 
elasticity ! " 

Bringing  up  the  rear  was  a  superior  sort  of  henchwoman 
whose  fate  it  was  to  carry  all  the  odd  and  inconvenient 
articles  of  the  party.  As  Joan  rose,  each  of  the  cortege 
found  a  place  and  sank  into  it,  something  after  the  manner 
of  a  puzzle  picture,  leaving  her,  alas,  as  the  odd  piece  that 
would  fit  nowhere. 

It  seemed  an  interminable  time  before  the  usual  pageant 
entered  the  small  end  of  the  telescope  and  began  its  trium- 
phal progress  down  the  train,  the  Pullman  conductor,  cal- , 


14  BLIND  WISDOM 

culated  to  inspire  awe  in  a  braver  heart  than  hers,  the  trai 
conductor,  loath  to  admit  inferiority,  and  the  African  porte 
bending  the  knee  to  sweep  up  the  bits  of  paper  that  t\ 
conductor's  punch  disgorged.  Joan's  reverend  gentlema 
awoke  and  surrendered  his  tickets.    Then  came  her  turn. 

"  Where's  your  seat?  "  jerked  the  gorgeous  one,  for  whe 
he  was  not  clipping  out  bits  of  cardboard  he  clipped  oi 
words  in  the  same  concise  manner.  One  half  expected  1 
see  them  fall  on  the  floor  and  the  porter  bend  to  swe€ 
them  up. 

*'  I  have  no  seat,"  she  began,  starry-eyed  and  anxious  1 
reach  his  conductorly  heart,  "  but  I  want  one." 

He  laughed  in  derision;  he  would  have  laughed  on  ar 
excuse,  since  nearly  all  his  teeth  were  gold.  "  I  can't  mal 
you  a  seat,  can  I  ?  " 

**  Can't  you  ?    I  thought  you  could  do  anything." 

She  was  resorting  to  shameless  feminine  wiles,  but  ! 
innocently  provocative  was  the  young  face  before  him  th 
he  swallowed  the  monstrous  tribute  whole,  nor  braid  n( 
brass  buttons  could  longer  disguise  him  for  the  man  I 
was,  an  average  good  sort  with  a  wife  and  little  ones  ; 
Flatbush.  They  compromised  on  an  end  seat  to  be  he 
till  the  next  station,  and,  the  controversy  ended,  it  wou 
have  been  pleasant  to  sink  into  the  kind  of  coma  proper 
travelling.  But  next  her  sat  the  preacher's  lady,  knittii 
on  a  stocking  of  incredible  size  and  for  some  reason  i: 
triguing  her  attention. 

"  Higgins  will  have  to  go,"  she  was  telling  the  patie 
henchwoman.  "  You  know,  Sarah,  our  gardener's  cottaj 
is  small  and  though  Higgins  is  a  faithful  worker  he  has  i 
sense  of  proportion."  She  leaned  forward  with  a  distrustf 
glance  at  the  children  and  thrust  forth  her  lips  in  tl 
whisper,  "  Too  prolific ! "  They  wagged  their  heads 
solenmity  over  this  truth,  knitting  industriously  the  whij 


A  JOURNEY  15 

"  In  most  ways  he  was  so  obliging,  but  I  warned  him  a  year 
ago  that  the  cottage  was  overcrowded,  and  then,  entirely 
disregarding  my  wishes,  twins !  " 

"  But  that,"  put  in  the  henchwoman  timorously,  "  if  youHl 
pardon  my  saying  so,  ma'am,  was  a  great  blow  to  Higgins, 
himself!" 

Could  either  have  glimpsed  the  face  behind  her  at  that 
moment,  in  its  almost  comical  expression  of  dismay,  it  might 
have  proved  in  the  nature  of  a  tonic  shock.  There  are 
persons  whose  complacency  is  so  well  established  that  they 
scarcely  ever  remember  they  are  but  human  clay  them- 
selves, and  subject  to  the  barbs  of  criticism.  Joan  was 
quivering  indignantly.  In  her  own  home  certain  proprietary 
rights  were  exercised  over  the  servants,  but  that  one  should 
seek  to  limit  the  extent  of  offspring  was  something  unknown 
and  unheard  of. 

"  Poor  darlings,"  she  thought  hotly,  "  any  one  of  them 
might  turn  out  a  Lincoln  or  a  Shakespeare." 

Had  not  Lishaby,  her  former  nurse,  and  "  ol'  Columbus  " 
brought  up  sixteen  children  beneath  the  patronage  of  the 
Wister  family,  and  had  her  sire  ever  sought  to  frustrate 
this  splendid  program  of  parenthood?  On  the  contrary,  He 
had  made  additions  to  the  domicile  of  "  old  Columbus," 
something  after  the  manner  of  chicken  hutches,  it  is  true, 
but  additions,  none  the  less,  and  Joan  was  proud  to  re- 
member them. 

And  then,  precipitately,  the  next  station  was  reached  and 
she  was  thrust  back  into  the  cradle  of  democracy,  bag  and 
all.  The  rain  still  sprayed  upon  the  window-panes  and  she 
shared  a  straw-covered  seat  in  an  aroma  of  banana  peels 
and  cinders.  Here,  sprawling  babies  were  not  only  tolerated, 
but  their  antics  were  looked  upon  smirkily  and  their  crying 
was  condoned,  here  also  a  sailor  might  ride  with  his  arm 
about  a  tousle-headed  girl  and  both  might  chew  gum  with 


I6  BLIND  WISDOM 

a  united  rh)rthm  of  jaws.  The  socialistic  side  of  Joan  p 
nounced  these  conditions  right  and  natural,  but  her  fast 
ious  instincts  rebelled  and  she  retired  into  her  own  res 
to  think. 

Her  schoolmates  had  been  right  in  envying  her.  It  \ 
indeed  a  red-letter  event  to  be  homeward  bound  to  a  wedd 
and  the  attendant  festivities.  The  Wister  family  hav 
established  a  precedent  in  Crannsford,  the  ceremony  wo 
be  consummated  with  an  elegance  of  detail  very  gratify 
to  a  beauty-loving  nature  such  as  Joan's.  But  when 
came  to  the  spiritual  significance  of  the  occasion  she  gr 
uneasy.  In  truth,  one  of  more  mature  years  than  she  mii 
have  found  this  alliance  between  Agnes  Wister  and  Godf 
Blunt,  son  of  the  Reverend  MacAllister  Blunt,  hard 
digest.  Agnes,  as  Joan  already  recognized,  was  of  a  rat] 
cold  and  limited  type,  whereas  Godfrey,  for  all  his  aust 
upbringing,  sported  an  insidious  devil  in  his  eye.  It  \ 
like  "  trying  to  believe  six  impossible  things  before  bre 
fast,"  thought  Joan,  remembering  her  "  Alice."  Later  Ag 
clarified  herself  for  Joan,  but  it  was  long  before  she  co 
solve  the  real  psychology  of  Godfrey,  a  man  susceptible 
frivolous  women,  but  an  inherent  prude  when  it  came 
choosing  a  wife. 

And,  engrossed  as  she  was  with  such  reflections, 
did  not  see  at  once  that  her  chair  companion  had  tun 
from  the  window  and  was  regarding  her  fixedly,  with  wi 
tear-rimmed  eyes.    Then, 

"Ain't  you  the  Wister  girl — ain't  you  Jo-ann  Wister 
demanded  a  dubious  voice,  and  Joan  came  brightly  to 
surface. 

Confronting  her  was  a  very  shabby  and  woebeg 
Cinderella  whose  tears  fell  in  competition  with  the  r; 
Tears  may  mean  almost  anything,  but  they  are  in  a  meas 
tyrannical  and  seldom  fail  to  rouse  interest  or  concern. 


A  JOURNEY  17 

parlor  cars  one  did  not  weep  for  very  pride,  but  in  day- 
coaches  one  wept  aS  one  ate  or  one  slept,  with  a  veritable 
you-be-damn  independence. 

Having  received  an  answer  in  the  affirmative, 

"  I  thought  you  was  Jo-arm,  all  right,"  said  the  girl,  in 
a  colorless  voice,  "  though  I  ain't  seen  you  since  we  went  to 
school  together.    I  thought  mebbe  you'd  help  me." 

Joan  had  an  excellent  memory,  which  she  proceeded  to 
ransack  earnestly,  and  like  little  Jack  Horner's  pie  it  pro- 
duced a  plum. 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course.  You  sat  across  the  aisle  from  me 
in  Adams  Street  School,  and  your  name's  Daisy  Green." 

"  No,"  corrected  the  other,  "  Lily  Gray." 

"Well,  I  knew  it  was  a  flower  and  a  color.  And  that 
was  the  way  you  always  looked." 

Evidently  Lily  Gray  was  not  accustomed  to  being  paid 
delicate  compliments,  for  she  first  stared,  then  flushed,  and 
the  tear^  ceased  flowing. 

"  My  color's — black  now,"  she  was  surprised  to  hear  her 
own  voice  answering,  for  it  was  perhaps  the  first  imagina- 
tive thing  she  had  said  in  her  life. 

"  So  I  see,"  with  a  glance  at  her  companion's  shoddy 
mourning,  including  the  inevitable  veil  with  a  crepe  border 
so  popular  with  a  certain  class  that  one  may  safely  suppose 
it  to  be  the  very  emblem  of  genteel  bereavement,  the  ex- 
quisite consolation  that  enables  its  wearers  to  bear  up  at  all. 
"  I  hope  it  was  no  one  extremely  close." 

Whereupon  she  perceived  that  she  had  touched  the  main- 
spring of  Lily  Gray's  emotions. 

"  Close  ?  Well,  I  rather  guess,"  she  cried  hysterically, 
"  all  I  had — my  father.  Mebbe  that's  not  close  " — and  she 
continued  to  saturate  a  crisp  handkerchief  that  obviously 
belonged  to  the  new  mourning  outfit,  while  the  other  in  deep 
distress  patted  her  f  utilely  on  the  shoulder. 


I8  BLIND  WISDOM 

Although  Joan  did  not  know  it  at  the  time,  she  was  al 
ready  developing  a  cozy  code  of  her  own,  something  to  d( 
with  "  helping  lame  dogs  over  stiles."  Call  it  conscience  o 
call  it  instinct  and  either  hammer  hits  the  nail,  but  call  i 
impulse  and  you  have  failed  of  the  mark,  for  between  in 
stinct  and  impulse  there  is  a  difference  as  well  as  a  dis 
tinction.  Joan's  instinct  was  a  powerful  dictator,  an* 
though  she  at  times  might  doubt  its  integrity  she  always  i: 
the  end  obeyed.  Her  intuition  in  this  instance  was  to  offe 
sympathy,  any  amount  of  it,  and,  should  the  need  arise,  aic 
either  moral  or  financial,  but  something  in  the  glacial  blu 
of  those  eyes  frightened  her.  It  was  as  though  Life  ha 
dealt  the  little  lady  a  raw  hand  and  she  held  humanity  t 
be  in  league  against  her.  Such  cynicism  seen  for  the  firs 
time  is  bound  to  be  a  shock  to  the  gently  nurtured.  Lily' 
mouth  had  the  rebellious  curve  of  a  hurt  child's  and  sh 
sobbed  with  a  fierce  abandon. 

"  You're  shaking,"  exclaimed  Joan  after  an  awful  fiv 
minutes  of  wondering  what  she  should  do,  "  and  I  believ 
you  are  going  to  be  ill.    Let  me  see  your  tongue." 

This  made  Lily  laugh  again  and  her  laughter  was  wors 
than  her  tears,  being  made  up  of  what  had  once  been  swec 
sounds,  now  jangling  and  off  key.  She  was  really  ver 
pretty  in  her  pink  and  white,  half  starved  youth;  as  sh 
matured  she  would  either  become  plumply  passe,  or  sh 
would  crack  like  a  delicate  vase.  It  did  not  occur  to  Joa 
that  she  herself  might  end  by  determining  Lily's  future. 

"  No,  I  ain't  sick,  just  sick  of  livin',  that's  all.  I  s'pos 
you  wonder  how  I  come  to  be  away  when  he  died.  Wei 
I  couldn't  get  work  in  Crannsford,  I'd  taken  a  course  i 
stenography,  and  Pa  had  to  stay  on  'ccount  of  the  shop. 
She  straightened  proudly.  "He  was  the  best  cobbler  i 
town." 

The  best  cobbler !    Joan  looked  at  her  incredulously,  y« 


A  JOURNEY  19 

admiringly,  touched  in  a  new  painful  way.  Though  the 
train  was  warm  she  saw  goose  flesh  on  Lily  Gray's  wrist 
and  she  sensed  keenly  the  blackness  of  her  dilemma.  Joan's 
was  a  nature  to  find  the  contemplation  of  suffering  intoler- 
able. She  must  immediately  minister  to  it,  must  change 
the  aspect  of  the  bogey's  face  before  she  could  bear  to  look 
upon  it.  And  as  she  listened  to  Lily's  tale  her  mind  kept 
flying  off  at  a  tangent,  trying  to  plan. 

Yet  all  the  time  she  was  aware  of  the  rough  thread  in 
the  girl's  voice  and  the  reckless  light  of  her  eyes.  She  re- 
membered the  shop  now;  she  had  once  taken  shoes  there 
to  be  resoled.  She  imagined  them  in  eternal  procession, 
straggling  in  by  their  own  volition,  down  at  the  heel,  down 
at  the  toe,  poor,  tired  old  shoes  that  the  honest  man  would 
goad  into  shape  again  to  accomplish  more  weary  miles  of 
pedestrianism.  But  even  Lily's  long  years  of  apprenticeship 
did  not  make  her  immune  to  the  pungency  of  the  leather 
and  she  always  slept,  she  said,  with  a  damp  cloth  over  her 
face.  That  was  before  she  exchanged  the  reek  of  leather 
for  the  reek  of  cookery,  as  a  clerk  in  a  cheap  restaurant. 
But  her  father's  was  a  wasting  disease  that  fed  upon  his 
vital  organs  and  the  savings  of  both  of  them,  and  she  found 
it  hard  to  eke  out  an  existence  in  the  city.  Friends  had 
telegraphed  her  that  he  was  dead,  and  had  arranged  for 
the  funeral.    This  last  would  about  clean  her  up. 

"  I  guess  you'll  think  I'm  daft,  but  I'm  afeered  to  go 
back,  I  can't  bear  to  see  that  black,  awful  place  again,  and 
him  lyin'  in  it,  not  hammerin'  nor  nothin'  like  he  uster,  an* 
whistlin'  all  the  time  like  a  blackbird.  Besides,  I'm  afeered 
o'  dead  people;  I'd  shriek  if  I  was  to  look  at  one,  an*  if  I 
had  to  stay  there  over  night " 

"  Hush,"  whispered  Joan  as  Lily's  voice  rose  in  a  wail, 
and  unconsciously  she  was  stern.  "  Death  isn't  like  that — 
I  know  it  isn't.     It's  just  graduating,  that's  what  it  is,  to 


ao  BLIND  WISDOM 

somewhere  far  finer  than  this  old  world.  It's  lucky — jusi 
as  lucky  as  being  bom.  Wouldn't  you  be  proud  to  think 
he  was  making  perhaps  silver  shoes  or — or  gold  shoes?" 
And  then,  at  the  incongruity  of  Heavenly  persons  so  con- 
ventionally shod,  she  amended  hastily,  "  making  silver  san- 
dals for  the  angels,  that's  what ! " 

But,  though  Joan  rallied  her  gently,  she  saw  that  Lily*! 
superstitious  fears  were  far  from  being  dispelled.  Her  eyes 
caught  at  Joan's  with  a  desperate  and  naked  urgency. 

"  Don't  none  o*  your  men  folks  need  typewriting  done?  " 
It  was  a  makeshift  for  the  question  she  dared  not  ask,  an<j 
it  melted  Joan  completely.  She  drew  a  daring  breath  and 
gave  Lily  a  glance  of  great  sweetness.  Both  were  guileless 
as  children  making  friends  in  the  street. 

"  There's  only  Father,"  she  sighed  impetuously,  "  and  I'm 
afraid — well,  I  know  he  wouldn't.  I'm  going  to  take  you 
straight  home  with  me  just  the  same,  Lily  Gray,  and  you 
can  stay  in  my  house  till  after  the  funeral.  I'll  explain  it 
all  to  Mother,  and  ask  her  to  help  you." 

The  decision  once  made,  she  gave  the  poor  waif  a  hug  tc 
make  her  know  how  welcome  she  would  be,  convincing  Lily 
if  not  herself.  And  when  a  little  later  the  oddly  assorted 
two  stepped  off  the  train  at  Crannsford, 

"  Good  gracious,"  exclaimed  Joan,  "  I  forgot  to  tell  you 
we're  having  a  wedding.    There's  Agnes,  now." 

And  then  she  saw  that  her  sister  Agnes,  in  a  state  oi 
bridely  importance,  was  rushing  down  the  platform  to  meet 
— not  herself,  but  the  reverend  gentleman  of  her  parlor  car 
encounter,  his  lady  and  the  retinue  of  slinky  children,  their 
noses  sharpening  on  a  scent  of  new  adventure. 

"As  I'm  alive,"  she  remarked  to  the  world  in  general^ 
"  they  are  Agnes's  in-laws,  the  Blunts ! " 

The  unwieldy  bag  went  clattering  to  her  feet,  and  so 
complete  was  her  amazement  that  she  made  no  effort  tc 


A  JOURNEY  21 

attract  her  sister's  attention,  but  watched  instead  the  be- 
stowal of  the  guests  in  the  family  brougham  and  its  sub- 
sequent departure.  She  awoke  at  the  touch  of  the  other's 
hand. 

"  Lily  Gray,"  she  exclaimed  profoundly,  "  there  is  only 
one  expression  that  describes  just  how  I  feel  at  this  minute. 
I'm  jiggered!" 


CHAPTER  II 
THE  MILK  OF  HUMAN  KINDNESS 

The  arrival  of  Joan  and  her  protegee  at  the  house  oi 
Wister  was  conspicuously  lacking  in  dignity.  She  had  noi 
been  expected  by  the  afternoon  train;  the  fact  was  self- 
evident,  yet  illogically  she  allowed  herself  to  be  chilled 
She  felt  lowly  and  discredited,  and  the  knowledge  that  she 
had  become  responsible  for  a  nearly  unknown  human  die 
not  add  to  her  peace  of  mind.  The  consequence  of  hei 
action  proved  appalling  to  a  child  of  seventeen  with  a 
chequered  domestic  record  behind  her.  She  did  not  regrel 
her  offer  of  hospitality.  After  a  peep  into  the  shadowj 
den  of  mourning  (they  had  stopped  at  the  cobbler-shop  or 
the  way  up)  it  seemed  to  her  the  only  possible  thing  she 
could  have  done,  but  she  was  finding  that  the  milk  of  humar 
kindness  is  a  rather  chilly  bath  when  one  is  standing  in  i1 
alone  and  up  to  one's  neck. 

As  they  neared  home  her  moral  courage  waned.  She 
could  picture  her  mother  welcoming  the  guests  and  the 
pompous  Mr.  Blunt  turning  a  distrustful  eye  upon  hei 
should  she  appear,  never  forgetting  that  she  had  usurped 
his  seat  under  false  pretenses.  As  to  presenting  Lily  in  a 
sympathetic  light,  the  possibility  became  increasingly  re- 
mote. 

"  Not  at  least  till  I  have  Mother  alone,"  she  procrastinatec 
weakly. 

And  because  she  was  so  utterly  ill  at  ease  herself  she 
sought  to  reassure  Lily  by  whistling.     But  Lily  had  noi 


THE  MILK  OF  HUMAN  KINDNESS  23 

fended  for  herself  these  years  without  acquiring  a  certain 

astuteness. 

"  I  always  do  that  when  I'm  scared,  too,"  she  commented 
unexpectedly  and  gave  an  eloquent  sigh. 

Resistlessly  Joan  was  turning  in  at  the  side  door,  that 
seldom-used  portal,  sacred  to  tramps,  fruit  sellers  and  book 
agents,  and,  so  far  as  she  was  concerned,  associated  only 
with  sly  creepings  home  after  youthful  misdemeanors.  It 
was  the  door  of  the  plebeian,  the  craven  and  the  coward. 

"If  Mother's  in  the  hall,  I'll  tell  her  about  you,"  she 
temporized  with  pink  cheeks,  "  and,  anyway,  neither  of  us 
wants  to  get  in  that  mob." 

But  Mrs.  Wister  was  not  in  the  hall  and  they  gravitated 
up-stairs  to  the  harbor  of  Joan's  room,  without  encountering 
a  single  member  of  the  family.  No  concealment  was  in- 
tended, yet  each  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  when  the  door  was 
closed.  And  at  the  soft  comfort  of  the  room  a  kind  of  en- 
chantment came  over  Lily.  She  was  like  one  wHo  is  taken 
from  gi-eat  jeopardy  into  the  arms  of  dream.  In  the  auster- 
ity of  that  New  England  town,  where  the  older  families 
subsisted  principally  upon  their  ancestors  and  past  glory,  the 
Wisters  were  unique,  their  prestige  supported  by  tangible 
comforts,  the  truth  in  a  nutshell  being  that  Mrs.  Wister  had 
supplied  the  ancestors  and  her  husband  the  gold  with  which 
to  refurbish  their  frames. 

Joan's  room  still  maintained  the  character  of  a  little  girl's 
room,  but  it  was  gracious  with  old  mahogany,  dainty  with 
chintz,  overflowing  with  books  and  knickknacks.  To  Lily 
it  was  everything  beautiful  and  fairylike.  In  one  of  her 
ambitious  times  Mrs.  Wister  had  caused  to  be  appended  a 
dressing-room,  a  kind  of  canary  cage  hung  above  the 
garden,  with  opulent  windows  and  a  view  of  "  dog  kennels, 
dove-cotes  and  weather-vanes."  It  was  here  that  Lily  was 
tacitly  installed  "  until  I  can  find  Mother,  you  know."    Joan 


24  BLIND  WISDOM 

induced  her  to  abandon  her  creepy  black  for  a  tufted  kimonc 
and  lie,  as  suited  a  bereaved  lady,  on  the  couch,  with  book< 
at  her  elbow  and  a  little  reading  lamp  with  an  adjustable 
curve  in  its  spine.  Her  guest  submitted  to  these  attention* 
with  dumb  acquiescence,  her  eyes  as  wild  and  soft  as  those 
of  an  tmtamed  animal.  It  was  only  when  Joan  was  pre- 
paring to  leave  that  she  spoke  uneasily. 

"  Supposin'  some  one  raps  at  that  door !  What'U  I  do  oi 
be  expected  to  say  ?    Shall  I  tmlock  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Joan,  bustling  at  the  awkward  possibility 
"  for  the  present,  till  they  know  you're  here,  you  might  jus 
— just  meow,  like  a  cat,  you  know,  and  they'd  think  I  ha( 
brought  home  a  stray.  But  they  won't  come,  because  thej 
are  all  mad,— stark,  raving  mad  with — ^matrimania !  "  Sh< 
coined  the  word  with  considerable  satisfaction.  "  And  nov 
don't  worry,  Lily  dear,  because  worry  makes  wrinkles  ii 
your  soul.    Grood-bye  for  a  little," 

And  she  was  gone,  leaving  the  cobbler's  daughter  to  he; 
own  concerns.  How  did  Lily  occupy  her  solitude?  Nee( 
one  ask?  Her  spirit  had  gone  hungry  till  her  very  lool 
seemed  to  scorch  and  profane.  Rising  from  the  couch  witl 
a  stealthiness  as  avid  as  it  was  graceful,  she  took  stock  ol 
her  surroundings,  forgetting  for  the  time  the  desolation  ol 
her  life  in  sensuous  enjoyment  of  that  which  the  gods,  if  no 
provided,  had  at  least  loaned.  The  closet  was  full  of  dresses 
too  elaborate  to  be  included  in  Joan's  boarding-school  ward 
robe,  and  she  shook  them  out  in  little  paroxysms  of  delight 
They  smelled  like  field  flowers  in  summer.    .    .    . 

Joan,  emerging  into  the  main  body  of  the  house,  foun( 
it  as  murmurous  with  sounds  as  a  terminal.  She  playec 
with  the  thought  that  she  was  a  disembodied  spirit  re 
turned  to  earth  after  protracted  wanderings,  and  both  in 
tangible  and  invisible  to  earthlings.    But  with  the  suddei 


THE  MILK  OF  HUMAN  KINDNESS  25 

impact  of  a  body  against  her  own  it  developed  that  she  was 
neither,  but  of  the  usual  corporeal  variety.  It  was  Agnes 
with  whom  she  had  collided,  Agnes  in  stiff  gray  satin,  at 
once  elegant  and  modest,  as  befitted  a  candidate  for  the 
altar,  and  Joan  saw  that  her  mind  was  in  a  gray  satin  state 
to  match  her  body. 

"  How  you  frightened  me,  dear  child,  and  when  did  you 
come  ?  I  am  sure  no  one  knows  that  you  are  here,"  and  she 
kissed  the  younger  girl  vaguely  in  the  region  of  her  nose. 
Joan,  discounting  the  impersonal  caress,  darted  back  a  rather 
more  successful  one,  and  standing  at  arm's  length,  re- 
garded Agnes  with  some  personal  awe. 

"  You  don't  look  a  bit  different,  Aggie,  even  if  you  are 
going  to  be  married.  Is  everything  going  on  all  right,  and 
did  you  get  heaps  of  presents  ?  " 

"  Innumerable,"  replied  Agnes  proudly,  "  and  not  a  dupli- 
cate." 

"  And  did  old  Soda  Biscuits  arrive?  " 

"  Who  on  earth  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Blunt,  of  course,  with  Mrs.  Blunt  and  the  little 
Blunts!  I  saw  them  on  the  train.  Of  course  Godfrey  is 
not  to  blame,"  she  added  fairly. 

"  To  blame  ?  I  should  think  you  were  being  very  imperti- 
nent, young  lady."  Then,  hastily  changing  tactics,  "Oh, 
Joan  dear,  for  my  sake,  be  on  your  good  behavior !  "  and  she 
touched  with  a  symbolic  gesture  the  solitaire  of  her  engage- 
ment ring,  that  shone  in  the  dusk  as  pure  and  cold  as  her 
own  character. 

Agnes  was  the  oldest  of  the  three  girls  in  the  family, 
and  a  Puritan  by  nature  with  no  inconvenient  touch  of 
originality.  The  conventions  which  serve  merely  to  hamper 
more  radical  women  were  the  parade  ground  of  Agnes'  life. 
She  prospered  sweetly  in  her  constricted  area  with  other 
orthodox  flowers  of  her  choosing,  and  never  doubted  for  a 


26  BLIND  WISDOM 

moment  that  her  high  calling  was  simply  to  exemplify  th( 
best  traditions  of  New  England.  At  times  her  "  sit-tigh 
goodness,"  as  they  dubbed  it,  was  something  of  a  trial  t( 
the  younger  girls,  for,  like  most  persons  with  active  con 
science  for  others  as  well  as  themselves,  she  was  not  alway 
easy  to  live  with.  But  Agnes  held  true  to  her  consecratioi 
and  often  with  the  thought  of  her  own  virtues  she  wa; 
touched  to  the  point  of  tears.  Some  discerning  man  ha( 
characterized  them  as  Agnes,  the  saint,  Claire,  the  materi 
alist,  and  Joan,  the  seeker. 

As  they  stood  together  on  this  eve  of  Agnes'  wedding 
they  were  particularly  true  to  type.  Joan  writhed  an( 
stubbed  at  the  rug  in  intolerable  embarrassment. 

*'  Are  you  '  honest-and-true,  black-and-blue '  happy  ?  An( 
what  is  it  like  to  be  in  love?  Are  you  marrying  Godfrey 
because  you  love  him,  or  do  you  fancy  you  love  him  becausi 
you  are  going  to  marry  him,  which  ?  " 

It  struck  Joan  that  Agnes'  arpeggio  of  laughter  "was  tO( 
perfunctory  to  be  quite  convincing,  a  frantic  clutch  at  poisi 
of  one  caught  napping.  Joan  was  watching  her  with  sue! 
terribly  bright  eyes  and  an  interlude  of  silence  had  fallei 
in  the  house  when  she  felt  herself  peculiarly  vulnerable. 

*'  Darling,"  she  began,  still  laughing,  sparring  for  time 
"if  you  were  a  little  older  you  would  understand  sue) 
matters.  Infatuation  means  little.  It  is  far  more  importan 
that  I  respect  Godfrey  and  feel  confidence  in  his  future 
and  that  I  know  the  Blunt  family  has  only  blue  blood." 

But  in  each  of  Joan's  eyes  was  a  pin-point  of  doubt. . 

"  Hmm,  Godfrey  may  be  all  right,  but  I  am  sure  his  f athe 
and  mother  are  very  wicked  people.  I  heard  them  talk  oi 
the  train,  and  actually,  Agnes,  they  won't  let  their  gardene 
have  babies." 

There  was  an  outburst  of  amusement,  and  Qaire  Wiste 
came  breezily  along  the  gallery. 


THE  MILK  OF  HUMAN  KINDNESS  27 

"  Who  won't  let  their  gardener  have  babies  ? "  she  de- 
manded, and  before  Joan  could  reply  she  bent  and  popped  a 
kiss  into  her  mouth.  "  Hello,  *  J.,'  glad  you're  back  for  the 
party.  But  how  thin  and  peaked  you  are.  They  must  have 
been  feeding  you  on  pickles  and  hardtack.  I  have  it, — a 
'  finishing  school,'  of  course !  " 

Claire  was  approximately  a  hundred  years  younger  than 
Agnes  and  struck  the  happy  normal  note  between  her 
sisters,  her  opinion  of  them  being  that  Joan  was  a  great 
dreamer  and  Agnes  a  great  goose.  She  linked  a  jovial  arm 
through  Joan's. 

"  My  soul,  what  a  pity  you've  missed  the  doings !  A  car- 
load of  presents,  and  we  dissected  'em  all  in  the  cellar  with 
pounding  and  splitting  fit  to  deafen  you.  Some  one  sent  a 
Swiss  music  box  and  all  the  time  they  were  exhuming  the 
thing  it  played  '  The  Watch  on  the  Rhine.'  Father's  almost 
gone  mad  with  the  racket.  He's  shut  up  in  the  library  and 
in  such  a  state  that  no  one  dares  go  near  except  to  feed  him. 
And  I  believe  even  that's  dangerous.  I  suggested  that  they 
lower  the  tray  over  the  ventilator." 

She  interrupted  herself  to  turn  maliciously  on  the  bride- 
elect. 

"  You'd  better  run  on  for  your  '  quiet  hour,'  Agnes,  and 
*  getting  yourself  into  the  right  state  of  mind  for  matri- 
mony.* "  Joan  divined  that  the  words  were  Agnes'  own, 
handed  back  with  the  embellishment  of  sarcasm.  "  Come, 
J.,  and  feast  your  eyes  on  the  presents." 

But  once  away  from  Agnes,  and  Claire  had  changed  her 
tone.    She  was  speaking  with  fine  scorn. 

"  Just  fancy  having  to  get  yourself  into  '  the  right  state 
of  mind '  if  you  were  marrying  the  man  you  loved." 

"  Oh,  Claire,  do  you  feel  that,  too  ?  "  flashed  back  Joan. 
"  It  is  exactly  what  I  have  been  thinking." 

They  were  entering  the  show-room  of  the  morrow,  where, 


98  BLIND  WISDOM 

displayed  on  shining  damask,  were  Agnes'  future  Lares  and 
Penates. 

"  Of  course  I  feel  it,"  replied  Claire  bluntly,  turning 
squarely  upon  the  other.  "  But  see  here, — ^you  know  why 
she's  doing  it,  don't  you?  Aggie's  a  fearful  snob,  and  she's 
out  and  out  selling  herself  for — ^you  might  say  a  bottle  oi 
bluing ! "  Her  smile  grew  sick  anil  died.  "  She's  cold,  too, 
without  sex  consciousness  of  any  kind.  Godfrey  has  a 
hidden  spark,  but  Agnes  will  never  find  it." 


Dinner-time  arrived  without  Joan  having  found  it  con- 
venient to  acquaint  her  mother  with  the  presence  of  Lily. 
She  was  following  the  line  of  least  resistance  now  in  not 
pressing  her  efforts  too  far,  and  Lily,  as  they  say  of  the 
afflicted,  was  "  doing  as  well  as  could  be  expected." 

Let  the  future  take  care  of  itself :  it  was  enough  for  the 
present  to  lie  grandly  on  a  sofa  in  fanatic  enjoyment  of 
smuggled  dishes  whose  ingredients  she  could  not  analyze. 
After  a  time  the  lady  of  the  manor  would  appear  with  kind 
patronage,  thrusting  home  the  dependency  of  her  position, 
and  she  would  say,  "  Yes,  ma'am,"  or  "  No,  ma'am,"  as  the 
occasion  might  demand.  But  for  the  present  she  reclined  as 
spinelessly  as  any  grandee  in  the  delicious  atmosphere  of 
make-believe.  And  for  the  second  time  Joan  left  her  with 
reassurances  and  promises  of  undying  support.  Her  child- 
ish brow  puckered  with  responsibility  as  she  started  for  the 
"  interview  "  with  her  maternal  parent,  but  alas,  once  caught 
in  the  maelstrom  of  activity  outside  and  her  noble  resolu- 
tion went  the  way  of  all  previous  ones. 

"  Later,"  she  thought,  "  later." 

It  was  the  eve  of  the  wedding  and  preparations  went 
forward  with  a  fascinating  gusto.  Florists  were  busy  with 
laurel  and  smilax,  with  great  sheaves  of  hothouse  roses, 


THE  MILK  OF  HUMAN  KINDNESS  29 

lilies  and  orchids.  Maids,  strange  and  domestic,  moved 
about  in  mysterious  pursuits,  ignoring  her  with  splendid 
arrogance.  Everywhere  was  a  fragrance  and  a  waste,  a 
growing  evolution. 

In  the  double  drawing-rooms  the  piano  tuner  labored  at 
disadvantage,  finding  an  outlet  for  his  nerves  in  the  harsh, 
recurrent  sounds  that  he  wrung  from  the  key-board.  At 
intervals  he  would  emerge,  his  rumpled  gray  hair  on  end 
like  some  ancient  and  disgruntled  bird.  "  Zilence,  if  you 
blease !  "  he  would  entreat,  when  the  uproar  would  diminish 
for  a  period,  only  to  be  resumed  fortissimo. 

In  yet  another  room  the  Reverend  Mr.  Blunt,  "  Old  Soda 
Biscuits,"  as  Joan  had  outrageously  dubbed  him,  held  forth 
with  the  candidates.  "  You  will  repeat  after  me  .  .  ." 
his  voice  might  be  heard  coaching  them,  " '  I  Godfrey,  take 
thee,  Agnes  .  .  .'  Then  place  the  ring  on  the  third 
hand  of  the  left  finger, — I  would  say  the  left  hand  on  the 
third  ring  .  .  ."  He  grew  violently  pink.  "  Godfrey," 
to  his  son,  who  had  not  spoken,  "  I  would  thank  you  not  to 
confuse  me." 

Dinner  was  on  the  same  lavish  scale,  comprising  the 
family's  best  silver  and  its  most  careful  pretensions.  The 
Blunts,  the  guests  of  honor,  monopolized  space,  the  children 
lifting  alert  heads  after  their  sire  had  said  grace  and  with 
difficulty  holding  in  chec^  their  gastronomical  inclinations. 
Godfrey  was  there,  his  handsome  face  turned  this  way  and 
that  in  cordial  amusement.  Agnes,  gracing  his  side,  mouthed 
tremendous  platitudes,  the  kind  of  girl  who  would  hence- 
forth see  that  he  had  what  he  liked  for  breakfast,  and  al- 
ways what  was  good  for  his  soul,  whether  he  liked  it  or  not. 
Mrs.  Blunt's  gown  was  decorous,  yet  elaborate,  as  befitted 
the  wife  of  a  preacher  with  private  means,  but  she  had  at- 
tempted, incongruously  enough,  a  head-dress  of  silver 
butterflies.    Certainly  had  the  butterflies  been  bright,  living 


30  BLIND  WISDOM 

things  when  she  snared  them,  they  would  have  promptly 
become  atrophied  at  finding  themselves  on  so  august  a  head. 
At  table  she  accomplished  the  large  feat  of  censoring  hei 
children's  conversation  and  manners  by  virtue  of  some  silent 
code.  Once  the  youngest  Blunt,  after  a  psychic  warning 
from  her,  was  frozen  to  relinquishment  of  a  chicker 
croquette. 

Joan  had  drifted  into  the  arms  of  her  mother  before 
dinner,  only  to  be  cast  forth  again  when  Mrs.  Wister  waj 
recalled  to  her  duties  as  hostess.  She  was  a  rather  small 
nervously-composed  woman,  her  raven  hair,  her  restlesj 
eyes  and  the  glimmer  of  sequins  on  her  gown  contributing 
to  the  impression  that  here  was  an  ambitious  spirit,  nol 
easily  assuaged. 

But  one  member  of  the  family  was  lacking,  and,  as  he 
seldom  appeared  at  his  own  board,  Jonathan  Wister's  ab- 
sence was  not  felt  save  as  a  negative  blessing.  In  truth,  the 
poor  paralytic  suffered  more  from  his  reputation  as  a  do- 
mestic tyrant  than  from  his  disease,  and  preferred  to  reigr 
supreme  in  his  own  study  where  he  possessed  at  least  the 
dignity  of  inspiring  awe.  For,  look  as  fierce  as  he  might,  in 
a  gay  gathering  the  faith  in  "  safety  in  numbers  "  proved  ar 
immunity  against  him;  when  he  ceased  to  be  feared,  whai 
was  he,  after  all,  but  a  querulous  and  uncomfortable  olc 


man 


Agnes,  the  untiring  advocate  of  Dame  Grundy,  had  be 
sieged  him  in  vain.  "  First  impressions,"  she  had  pleaded 
"  and  what  will  the  Blunts  think?  "  But  her  father,  whose 
nerves  had  been  frazzled  throughout  the  day,  discouragec: 
further  argument  by  a  burst  of  profanity  in  which  he  con- 
signed to  perdition  the  florists,  the  caterers,  the  piano  tunei 
and  the  Blunts  themselves.  In  short,  he'd  be  damned  if  he 
would!  And,  still  choking  anathema,  he  rang  for  Sammy 
his  attendant,  to  put  him  to  bed. 


THE  MILK  OF  HUMAN  KINDNESS  31 

**  Oh,  well,"  sighed  Agnes,  cringing  and  paling,  but  em- 
ploying her  usual  formula,  "  I  think  you  will  be  sorry." 

But  now  that  the  dinner  was  progressing  "  with  such  an 
air,"  she  told  herself,  in  the  flush  of  success,  perhaps  it  was 
as  well  that  he  had  not  joined  them,  the  presence  of  an 
invalid  seeming  almost  a  confession  of  weakness.  Her 
critical  eye  roving  about  the  table  was  warmly  commend- 
atory. For  once  her  family  appeared  blameless  in  her  eye, 
balance  sustained  on  the  best  foot  forward.  They  were  a 
credit  to  her  and  to  Godfrey.  Even  Joan,  at  other  times 
incalculable,  looked  as  innocent  as  an  angel  on  a  Christmas 
card.  Her  mind  at  peace,  she  assumed  an  animated  ex- 
pression and  proceeded  to  take  a  sprightly  interest  in  what 
went  on. 

At  this  juncture  the  name  "Jerry"  was  being  bandied 
back  and  forth  like  a  ball  between  Godfrey  and  his  father, 
and  each  who  caught  it  returned  it  with  a  crisp  word  or  two. 

"Jerry  could  have  taken  the  five-thirty,"  declared  God- 
frey brightly. 

"  Ah,  if  he  had  stepped  lively  from  business,  but  Jerry 
never  takes  time  by  the  forelock,"  whisked  back  Mr.  Blunt. 

"  Come  now,"  cried  Godfrey,  catching  the  ball,  "  Jerry's 
never  ahead  of  time,  if  that's  what  you  mean.  He's  never 
behind  time  either, — he's  on  time.  He  has  the  knack  more 
than  any  chap  I've  ever  known  of  never  hurrying  and  never 
being  late." 

"  And  who  is  Jerry  ?  "  Joan,  divining  a  personage,  sent 
a  whisper  to  Claire. 

"  Godfrey's  partner  at  law.  The  best  man,  you  know ! " 
was  all  that  she  could  extract  from  the  preoccupied  Claire. 

"If  it  is  still  raining,"  Mrs.  Blunt  now  thrust  forward, 
determined  that  the  absent  Jerry  should  not  pose  as  a 
paragon,  "  he  will  be  certain  to  have  forgotten  his  umbrella." 
Thereby  seconding  Robert  Louis  Stevenson's  satirical  as- 


32  BLIND  WISDOM 

sertion  that "  not  to  forget  one's  umbrella  throughout  a  lo 
lifetime  and  to  be  somewhat  circumspect  in  money  matt< 
is  the  whole  duty  of  man." 

It  was  at  that  precise  moment  the  one  beneath  discuss! 
chose  to  enter,  looming  in  the  dim  doorway,  neither  drama 
nor  retiring,  but  with  a  casual  humor  that  smiled  down  t 
commotion.  It  was  as  though  he  observed  the  essenti 
of  good  breeding,  but  conserved  the  rarest  essence  of  1 
personality  for  rare  occasions. 

Immediately  he  was  bombarded  with  trite  pleasantries. 

"  Your  shoulders  are  wet.  So  you  did  forget  your  u 
brella !  "  and  the  like. 

Then  through  the  loud  waters  of  family  presentation 
cut  like  an  expert  swimmer,  leaving  in  his  wake  only  t 
charm  of  his  persuasive  smile.  A  place  was  made  for  h 
and  once  more  the  tide  of  conversation  rose,  spread  a 
closed  about  his  head.  Joan,  teentering  on  the  edge 
seventeen,  dismissed  the  man  of  thirty  as  quite  an  agreeab 
middle-aged  gentleman.  Besides,  she  was  frankly  got 
mande,  and  after  the  meagre  fare  of  school  each  coui 
that  appeared  was  of  vital  interest.  Thus  was  she  indi 
triously  repairing  waste  tissue  when  an  ominous  shad( 
stole  upon  her,  the  foreboding  of  trouble  in  some  way  cc 
nected  with  herself.  Even  before  she  lifted  her  eyes  fn 
her  plate  she  felt  the  unwonted  excitement  of  a  forei 
presence  in  their  midst.  There  fell  a  dead,  curious  sileni 
while  each  of  the  diners  regarded  the  unnerved  maid  w 
stood  swaying  on  the  threshold,  her  face  white  as  paper. 

"  Please,**  she  gasped,  appealing  impartially  to  manki 
and  the  omnipotent,  "  there  is  some  one — something  in  M 
Joan's  room.  It  meows  like  a  cat  and  walks  like  a  m; 
For  the  love  o'  God,  go  see." 

Whereupon  she  cast  up  her  hands  and  fell  fainting  to  t 
floor. 


CHAPTER  III 
Two  CEREMONIES 

If  the  Interruption  proved  unconventional  none  shall  say 
that  it  was  without  a  certain  pleasing  and  dramatic  quality. 
For  along  about  the  salad  course  invariably  a  slight  stuffi- 
ness has  set  in,  and  who  would  not  welcome  the  diversion 
of  a  fainting  housemaid  and  a  mystery  in  the  bargain? 
There  was  a  general  abandonment  of  reserved  seats  while 
Godfrey  Blunt  was  first  to  reach  the  side  of  the  stricken 
creature  and  dash  a  glass  of  cold  water  in  her  face.  In 
such  a  crisis  certainly  lace  caps  and  dainty  uniforms  are  of 
secondary  consideration,  moreover  there  is  the  novelty  of 
knowing  that  in  ordinary  circumstances  one  may  not  inun- 
date a  fellow  human  with  impunity.  The  onlookers  each 
secretly  felt  that  a  spirited  deed  had  been  done ! 

The  afflicted  Ellen,  flat  on  the  floor  like  a  victim  of 
chloroform  in  a  third-rate  melodrama,  gasped  and  gulped 
through  the  shower  and,  possibly  anticipating  a  second 
sense  of  the  fitness  of  things.  Indeed  a  fine  lady  of  the 
deluge,  deemed  it  advisable  to  open  her  eyes.  If  Godfrey 
was  quick  in  the  emergency  Ellen  manifested  an  equal 
Victorian  era  could  scarcely  have  done  greater  credit  to  a 
swoon.  When  lifted  to  a  sitting  posture  she  gave  a  long, 
floating  sigh  and  demanded  dreamily,  "  Where  am  I  ?  " 

But  as  they  pressed  about  her  in  an  expectant  half  circle 
and  became  more  and  more  convinced  that  she  was  right 
as  a  trivet  their  eyes  seemed  to  question,  "  After  all,  is  it 
quite  the  thing  for  the  parlor  maid  to  be  holding  court  on 
the  dining-room  floor  with  her  legs  straight  out  before  her 
like  broomsticks,   and   are   we   not   losing  in   dignity   by 


34  BLIND  WISDOM 

countenancing  such?"  Joan,  the  guilty  rearguard  of 
group,  knew  that  her  hour  had  sounded.  Scorn  for  E 
curled  her  lip,  Ellen,  a  poor  creature  who  went  oflf  1 
cocked  on  the  slightest  provocation.  As  for  Lily  Gray 
was  almost  as  great  a  fool  with  her  literal  mewing 
meowing  behind  the  door.  So  she  ruminated  the  w 
Ellen,  redeemed  from  the  floor  and  conceded  a  chair, 
being  catechised. 

"  Are  you  certain  that  no  member  of  the  household  cc 
have  been  locked  in  the  chamber  ?  "  quizzed  Mr.  Blunt  ^ 
his  manner  of  speaking  from  the  pulpit,  and  his  gh 
sought  Mrs.  Wister's  cooperation,  as  though  to  ask,  "  u 
you,  Madame,  are  you  quite  certain  that  you  have  > 
brood  correctly  counted  ?  "  While  that  lady,  in  panic, 
ing  stock  of  Agnes,  Claire  and  Joan,  tried  to  recall  if 
had  ever  in  an  absent-minded  moment  brought  into 
world  yet  another  offspring  who  might  at  this  momen' 
causing  such  unpleasantness!  She  could  only  remen 
Mr.  Wister  as  unaccounted  for  and  he,  poor  man, 
paralyzed  and  perforce  unable  to  navigate  in  upper  regi 

"  Have  you  remarked  any  demented  person  hove; 
about  the  neighborhood  ?  "  the  inquisitor  went  on  and 
rewarded  by  the  almost  visible  creep  of  the  flesh  and  fur 
glances  toward  the  stairway  in  anticipation  of  Hea^ 
knew-what  horror  stalking  down,  Ellen  shivered  and 
gan  to  weep  in  a  miserable  red-nosed  fashion.  Oh,  : 
that  she  came  to  think  of  it,  she  had  seen  a  strange  apj 
tion  crossing  the  grounds  an  hour  before  and — and 

"That  was  I,"  interrupted  with  quiet  relish  the  j 
called  "  Jerry."    "  I  walked  from  the  station  with  my 
over  my  head." 

Another  promising  theory  heartlessly  exploded!    It 
to  be  remarked  that  no  one  suggested  going  up  to  inv 
gate.    It  was  becoming  a  ghastly  farce  and  Joan  knew 


TWO  CEREMONIES  35 

if  she  did  not  end  it  soon  the  situation  would  make  an  end 
of  her.  But  how  to  claim  the  center  of  the  stage  as  author 
of  the  mischief  ? 

"  Isn't  it  true,"  her  seemingly  irrelevant  query  was  at 
last  launched,  "  that  one  ought  to  love  one's  neighbor  as 
one's  self?  Or — or  is  that  not  to  be  taken  literally  either 
like  the  Jonah  and  the  whale  thing?  " 

Their  attention  veered  to  her  somewhat  intolerantly. 

"Because,"  she  elucidated,  now  sure  of  her  audience, 
"  if  you  do  believe  in  it  I'll  tell  you  who  is  up-stairs  in  my 
room ! " 

Here  was  a  bolt  from  the  blue  to  transfix  them;  Joan, 
after  all,  was  incalculable!  How  small  she  looked  sur- 
rounded by  her  mentors  and  how  destined  to  defeat !  Again 
it  was  obviously  for  the  clergyman  in  their  midst  to  reply 
but,  being  a  practical,  far-sighted  preacher  he  chose  his 
words,  he  chose  them  so  judiciously  in  fact  that  it  would 
have  required  one  of  almost  superhuman  powers  to  fathom 
his  exact  meaning.  The  gist  of  it  was,  "  that  largely  de- 
pends." 

"  Oh,"  sighed  the  poor  child  and  took  a  step  backward, 
for  cordially  as  she  disliked  him  she  had  trusted  his  ortho- 
doxy and  this  hedging  on  his  part  threw  her  into  dismay, 
"  in  special  cases,  you  mean  ?  "  She  grasped  for  the  elusive 
thought.  "  But  this  was  a  special  case  and  I  was  trying  as 
hard  as  ever  I  could  to  be  helpful,  to  befriend  some  one, 
the  some  one  who  is  up-stairs  now    .     .     ." 

There  was  a  slight  shriek  from  Mrs.  Wister. 

"  Joan,"  she  agonized,  coming  to  the  fore  like  the  stereo- 
typed mother  whose  place  is  fatally  at  her  offspring's  side, 
"  tell  us  immediately  what  it  is ! "  Insisting  absurdly  upon 
the  neuter  gender  the  while  the  wildest  doubts  ravaged  her 
mind.  She  thought  of  every  type  of  outrageous  charlatan 
from  lion  tamers  to  strolling  dentists  and  recalled  the  pre- 


36  BLIND  WISDOM 

diction  of  that  same  male  relative  who  had  catalogued  Joa 
as  a  "  seeker."  "  She  is  fated  to  do  magnificent  things 
he  had  said,  "  and  to  have  her  motives  impugned." 

"  It's  a  *  she/  Mother,"  Joan  hastily  assured  her,  divinir 
that  acute  anguish,  "  and  that's  about  all  I  can  say.  SI 
needed  help  and  a  little  voice  whispered  to  me,  '  You  ai 
the  one.'  And  so  I  brought  her  home."  She  was  offerir 
them  her  simple  philosophy.  "  But  it  was  lots  harder  i 
explain  than  I  thought  it  would  be  for  there  was  no  litt 
voice  that  wanted  to  tell  you.  I  listened  and  I  listened  bi 
I  couldn't  make  my  conscience  say  a  thing." 

The  silence  had  assumed  a  solid  quality  and  was  closir 
in  about  her  like  the  walls  of  those  death  chambers  ! 
popular  in  the  tales  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe.  No  wonder  si 
lost  poise. 

"  Oh,  some  one's  got  to  see  to  the  underdogs,"  she  gre 
rather  shrill,  pushing  at  the  silence  desperately.     "  Gir 

go  astray  because — because "    But  as  her  knowled^ 

of  why  girls  go  astray  was  nearly  negligible  she  flusht 
deeply  and  could  not  continue. 

Her  eyes,  soft  like  the  darkest  petals  of  a  pansy,  wei 
searching  hither  and  yon  for  the  Mecca  of  a  kindred  spiri 
The  limpid  gaze  passed,  still  searching,  beyond  her  mother 
passionate  reproach,  limping  on  to  strike  against  the  met 
of  the  Blunt  censure,  Agnes'  blame  and  Godfrey's  teasir 
ridicule,  to  find  shelter  in  a  pair  of  eyes  that  signalle 
warmly.  She  entered  them  like  a  derelict  who  bears  r 
credentials.  And  simply  he  received  her — a  natural  an 
charming  host.  The  spell  was  broken  and  they  were  que; 
tioning  her  wildly. 

"  You  picked  her  up  on  the  train?  My  poor,  misguide 
child,  where  will  your  sympathies  lead  you !  "  and  "  All  th; 
is  so  apt  to  be  a  trumped-up  tale,  don't  you  agree,  M 
Blunt?" 


TWO  CEREMONIES  37 

"  Oh,  unquestionably,  a  great  deal  of  humbug  is  practised 
along  those  lines.  One  cannot  be  too  guarded,"  and  his 
pale  prominent  eyes  fastened  upon  the  supposed  victim  of 
fraud  as  though  measuring  the  extent  of  her  gullibility. 

While  Agnes  stepped  up-stairs  to  see  if  the  wedding  g^fts 
were  safe  the  others  directed  their  united  efforts  toward 
making  Joan  feel  how  wrong  she  had  been.  Not  only  had 
she  endangered  the  family  property  but  she  had  in  some 
way  injured  the  very  person  whom  she  meant  to  succor. 
She  had  inadvertently  dulled  the  initiative  of  "  that  poor 
girl  whose  strength  should  be  in  helping  herself,"  substi- 
tuting her  own  officiousness  for  God  and  the  city  missions. 
Confounded  as  she  was,  Joan  yet  heard  little  of  the  dis- 
course for  the  simple  reason  that  she  was  spiritually  biding 
with  the  man  called  "Jerry"  and  warming  herself  at  his 
hearth  fire. 

*  ♦  *  3|e4(  ♦  Ht  4( 

Agnes  Wister  was  married  at  high  noon  next  day.  Joan, 
in  a  honey-colored  bridesmaid  frock  and  a  picture  hat  with 
long  ribbons,  carried  beneath  it  the  small,  pale  face  of  her 
sleepless  night. 

"  Repenting  of  your  rashness  ?  "  whispered  Godfrey  slyly 
when  he  encountered  her  on  the  stair,  her  arms  full  of 
filmy  flowers.  "  I  should  say  you  are  rather  young  to  be 
saving  other  youngsters  from  the  thorny  path,"  But  he 
dropped  the  bantering  tone  to  take  her  face  suddenly  be- 
tween his  hands.  "  I  wonder  who  you're  saving  yourself 
for,"  and  before  she  was  fully  aware  of  his  intention  he 
had  bent  and  kissed  her  closely  on  the  mouth.  He  laughed 
to  carry  off  his  boldness,  though  of  the  two  he  was  the  more 
shaken.  "  I  don't  know  what  made  me  do  that,  honestly, 
but  there's  something  about  you  I  never  noticed  till  now. 
I'll  wager  you'll  cause  no  end  of  mischief  later  on ! " 

Joan,  too  surprised  for  resentment,  stared  back  at  him 


38  BLIND  WISDOM 

solemnly  with  her  pansy  eyes  and  seemed  to  hear  Claire' 
words,  "  There's  a  hidden  spark  in  Godfrey  but  Agnes  wij 
never  find  it."  As  she  saw  him  now,  flushed  and  lyric  i 
his  discovery  of  her,  she  realized  that  here  indeed  was 
Godfrey  of  under  currents.  In  a  moment  more  he  woul 
have  resumed  his  conventional  mask  to  be  the  exemplar 
Godfrey  they  all  knew,  the  zealous  yoimg  lawyer  an 
brilliant  match.  Was  hypocrisy  inherent  in  his  nature,  sh 
wondered,  or  was  he  conscientiously  striving  to  fit  himsel 
into  the  family  picture?  She  wavered  doubtfully  in  he 
diagnosis,  half  scorning  the  elemental  man  in  him,  half  ir 
clined  to  pity.    All  personal  feeling  was  lost  in  this  analysii 

"  Godfrey,"  she  breathed  involuntarily,  "  why  are  yo 
marrying  Agnes  ?  ,  Tell  me  the  truth  and  I  swear  I'll  neve 
repeat  it  to  a  soul." 

"W-what'sthat?" 

The  color  was  leaving  his  face  while  his  smile  tume 
sickly.  He  tossed  up  an  easy  hand  to  rumple  his  hair  an 
found  it  shaking. 

"Come  now,  what  put  that  in  your  head?  You're 
funny  little  kid  the  way  you  dig  into  things.  Well,  '  J.,'  t 
be  perfectly  candid  I've  sometimes  asked  myself  the  sam 
question.  Agnes  is  a  fine  girl,  right  enough,  but  there's  n 
good  pretending  she's — the  way  you'll  be  for  instance,  l 
great  church  woman  and  a  good  homemaker,  but  hardl 
the  companion  to  take  on  a  picnic.  However  it's  generall 
agreed  that  she's  my  best  bet ! " 

His  handsome  face  went  bleak  for  a  moment.  Then  h 
straightened  with  his  old  mask  of  tradition  nicely  adjustec 

"  Come  along,"  he  bade  lightly,  before  she  could  brea 
down  his  nerve,  "  and  let's  see  if  old  Jerry  has  lost  th 
ring,"  and  he  caught  her  hand. 

Joan  gave  it  a  squeeze  of  impulsive  sympathy.  The 
she  sensed  his  deep  consternation. 


TWO  CEREMONIES  39 

"Joan,  the  music  is  beginning;  it's  time  for  us  to  get  in 
line!" 

"  Yes,"  she  whispered  back,  petrified  by  the  fatality  of 
it  all,  the  conviction  that  Agnes  and  Godfrey  were  walking 
open-eyed  into  a  trap.  "  Here's  Agnes  now.  Hurry,  and 
remember  you're  supposed  to  enter  from  the  study.  Good 
luck,  dear  Godfrey,  and  God  bless  you." 

Then  Joan  too  sought  her  place  in  the  procession,  the 
flower-scented  suspense  was  broken  by  the  wedding  march 
and  Agnes  on  the  arm  of  an  uncle,  owing  to  her  father's 
disability,  trailed  down  an  improvised  aisle  to  an  improvised 
altar,  her  manner  eloquent  of,  "  Behold  a  highly  suitable 
marriage  about  to  be  consummated.  None  could  do  better 
than  follow  my  example ! "  Her  attendants,  very  sweet 
in  their  formal  finery,  drooped  behind  her,  and  were,  all 
save  Joan,  duly  impressed.  As  for  Godfrey,  he  might  have 
borne  a  chastened  soul  to  the  altar  had  it  not  been  for  a 
stout  dowager  relentlessly  leaning  against  his  door  of  in- 
gress. Both  Godfrey  and  Jerry  Callendar,  the  best  man, 
had  tried  the  door  and  found  it  immovable. 

"  Let  me  in,"  hissed  Godfrey  as  loudly  as  he  dared,  but 
the  Lohengrin  Wedding  March  dared  louder. 

While  Agnes  neared  the  altar  they  pushed  and  beat  upon 
it  in  nervous  frenzy  till,  the  lady  relaxing  her  pressure, 
Godfrey  insinuated  through,  an  expression  of  profanity  in 
his  eyes  such  as  no  minister's  son  should  wear.  The  weighty 
one  fixed  him  with  malevolent  gaze. 

"  Who  are  you,"  she  wheezed,  "  a  waiter?  " 

"Less  than  that,"  he  whispered  back  furiously,  "the 
groom ! " 

It  was  three  o'clock  of  the  same  afternoon,  cold  and  sun- 
less. An  hour  before,  garlanded  with  confetti,  gold  slippers 
tapping  the  floor,  Joan  had  enjoyed  herself  festively.    Now 


40  BLIND  WISDOM 

she  sat  beside  Lily  Gray  in  a  hired  coupe,  very  stufFy  an 
narrow,  and  the  two  upright  as  graven  images,  being  drive 
to  a  cemetery  at  the  fringe  of  the  town.  On  the  driver' 
seat,  visible  through  the  glass  partition,  hunched  an  ancier 
ragamuffin  with  a  very  red  nose  who,  periodically,  whippe 
the  horse,  then  apologized  with  a  solemn  "  whoo  "  when  h 
bethought  him  of  their  mission,  though  in  truth  there  wei 
no  manifestations  of  spirit  on  the  part  of  the  forlorn  anima 
The  outfit  was  the  best  that  Joan  and  Lily  could  muste: 
setting  out  in  great  haste  as  soon  as  Joan  could  slip  awa] 
"  All  carriages  is  at  the  Wister  weddin',"  they  had  been  ir 
formed  before  succumbing  to  the  shabby  street  cab, 
derelict  among  its  kind. 

Lily  had  spent  the  morning  at  her  father's  shop  arrangin 
the  flowers  Joan  had  given  her  and  accepting  silently  th 
reproaches  of  the  good  neighbor  who  had  taken  charg( 
"An  unnat'ral  choild,"  the  woman  called  her.  "Afraid  to  b 
stayin'  along  wid  him  as  raised  her  now  he's  afther  gone  t 
his  hivingly  reward ! "  Like  many  of  the  old  and  ailinj 
the  dead  man's  chief  concern  had  been  for  his  burial  an 
he  had  carried  a  small  policy  to  cover  the  expenses  of  i 
The  remainder  of  his  fortune,  as  Lily  knew,  was  stuffed  int 
an  old  stocking  and  thrust  beneath  a  loose  board  of  th 
floor,  and  there  she  came  into  her  pitiful  inheritance. 

As  the  cab  wound  dolorously  through  the  country  b) 
ways  Lily  cried  a  little  for  the  first  time  since  she  had  er 
countered  her  benefactress "  and  Joan,  reaching  awkwardl 
for  her  hand,  murmured,  "  There,  dear ! "  like  a  chil 
mothering  its  doll.  Outside  purple-gray  clouds  were  rust 
ing  up  the  sky  with  an  effect  of  great  violence  and  in  th 
fields  the  weary  grass  of  the  winter  before  bent  beneath  th 
insult  of  the  wind.  The  world  had  wakened  too  soon  t 
expectancy  of  Spring  and  now  stood,  shivering  and  d( 
ceived,  like  a  naked  child.    Gradually  to  Joan,  Lily's  soj 


TWO  CEREMONIES  41 

row  became  real.  She  was  hurt  by  the  brutal  contrast  that 
thrust  itself  home  to  her,  the  glitter  of  the  ceremony  she 
had  left  and  the  bleakness  of  the  one  toward  which  they 
were  bent.  The  local  paper  that  morning  had  carried  a 
long  account  of  the  Wister  wedding,  with  an  elaborate 
anticipation  of  the  gowns  to  be  worn  and  an  accurate  list 
of  out-of-town  guests.  While  on  another  sheet  she  had 
found  a  few  muddy  words,  too  brief  to  be  remarked  by  the 
casual  reader :  "  Dead.  Gray — Tobias.  In  this  city.  Trade, 
cobbler.  Aged  seventy-five  years."  Was  it  then  more  im- 
portant that  Agnes  Wister  with  foolish  pomp  and  com- 
placency had  wedded  an  indifferent  mate  than  that  Tobias 
Gray,  with  his  lifetime's  accumulation  of  impression  and 
experience,  his  own  peculiar  individualism,  should  set  foot 
upon  the  great  adventure?  She  was  weighted  with  such 
perplexities. 

Meanwhile  the  cab  had  turned  in  at  the  cemetery,  the 
tired  horse  walking  and  cropping  out  hopefully  yet  hope- 
lessly at  the  unkempt  grass.  Some  distance  away  beyond 
the  granite  stones  (and  is  there  any  stone  in  the  world  so 
heartless  as  granite?)  she  saw  the  brutal  soil  of  a  fresh- 
turned  grave.  The  black-plumed  hearse  which  had  in- 
dependently preceded  them  stood  a  little  aloof  by  itself,  the 
blowing  manes  and  tails  of  the  horses  giving  them  a  sculp- 
tured appearance.  They  constituted  the  one  warm,  com- 
pelling note  in  a  pastel  of  gray  stones  and  gray-green  turf. 
As  they  alighted  from  the  cab  the  wind  caught  both  girls 
and  plastered  their  garments  to  their  limbs.  From  a  sec- 
ond cab  emerged  the  minister  and  the  neighbor  who  had 
owned  the  shop,  a  pitifully  small  nimiber.  The  two  men 
with  the  undertaker  and  his  assistant  brought  the  cheap 
coffin  and  placed  it  upon  the  supporting  tapes. 

An  unfamiliar  sickness  seized  upon  Joan  and  for  the 
moment  earth  and  sky  muddled  before  her.    The  situatign 


42  BLIND  WISDOM 

was  strange  to  her,  Lily  a  person  almost  unknown,  and 
with  death  and  disaster  she  had  never  before  been  intimate 
She  could  not  forgive  their  ugliness  and  her  instinct  waj 
to  fight  free  of  them,  to  clamber  back  into  the  cab  and  tell 
the  ragamuffin  to  drive  her  home.  It  was  only  by  the 
sternest  effort  that  she  controlled  her  twitching  body  anc 
led  Lily  forward.  She  never  forgot  the  drabness  of  thai 
scene,  the  faces  of  the  living  blue  and  unwholesome  in  th< 
cutting  wind,  while  beyond  the  little  plot  the  cab  driver  in  hii 
mossy  coat  huddled  asleep,  only  his  red  beak  visible.  She 
felt  herself  in  a  violent  gesture  of  protest,  insulted  to  the 
depth  of  her  being.  And  yet  one  could  not  take  God  tc 
task  for  impertinence,  as  one  took  the  plimiber.  One  couk 
not  grow  shrill  at  God.    .    .    . 

The  voice  of  the  preacher  soothed  her  turbulent  ego.  T( 
her  surprise  it  was  a  mellow  voice  and  it  grew  in  beauty  a; 
it  deepened  with  feeling.  His  words  fell  on  their  heart; 
like  manna  in  the  wilderness,  dispelling  the  cold,  warming 
and  freeing  the  tears  that  lay  frozen ;  Joan  felt  them  on  hei 
cheeks  in  a  glad  rush  of  thankfulness.  Even  the  poor  cat 
driver,  awake  now  and  listeniiig,  had  removed  his  hat  anc 
looked  harmlessly  human.  The  wind  stirred  his  poor,  scani 
hair.  The  voice  spoke  on  with  almost  intolerable  sweet 
ness  till  the  departed  cobbler  seemed  clothed  in  his  appre 
ciation  as  Caesar  was  wrapped  in  the  purple  of  his  mantle 
Very  splendidly  he  lay  him  to  rest,  that  humble  preacher 
and  very  earnestly  he  prayed  for  the  protection  of  the 
daughter  who  remained.  Joan  had  both  arms  about  Lil) 
now  and  was  straining  her  close  and  yet  in  some  way  ii 
seemed  to  be  not  Lily  alone  that  she  clasped  in  her  frai 
protectiveness :  her  arms  were  about  all  suffering  humanity 
her  cheek  to  its  cheek.  And  her  heart  seemed  bursting  witl 
the  ache  and  urge  of  pity. 


TWO  CEREMONIES  43 

As  they  were  reentering  their  cab  the  man  called  "Jerry  " 
materialized  from  nowhere.  In  reality  he  had  hastened 
cross-lots  from  the  Wister's  trap  that  was  taking  him  to  the 
station.  He  wore  an  oldish  suit  of  homespun  with  a  soft 
shirt  and  in  the  open  one  saw  that,  young  as  he  was,  his 
face  was  falling  into  lines  of  character.  There  were  lines 
that  said,  "  Life  does  not  cease  to  be  serious  when  people 
laugh  "  and  lines  that  answered,  "  nor  does  it  cease  to  be 
funny  when  people  die."  He  stood  bareheaded  and  the 
wind  blew  his  hair  straight  back  from  a  rather  heroic  brow. 

"  They  told  me  I  should  find  you  here,"  he  announced 
without  preamble.  "  I'd  have  come  with  you  if  it  hadn't 
seemed  slighting  to  your  family.  Do  you  mind  my  asking 
you,  Miss " 

"  Gray,"  supplied  Lily  dully. 

"  Miss  Gray,  where  you  are  going  from  here?" 

In  a  short  time  he  had  the  girl's  story  and  her  prospect, 
or  lack  of  prospect.  Afterward  it  seemed  to  Joan  the  kind 
of  thing  to  rub  one's  eyes  over,  for  Jerry  was  offering  Lily 
a  position  in  his  office  and  this  with  an  entire  lack  of  con- 
descension. He  further  added  that  if  she  cared  to  take  the 
next  train  to  the  city  he  would  look  after  her  on  the  way. 
But  in  a  radiant  moment  before  their  departure  he  paid 
Joan  his  memorable  compliment. 

"  I  need  not  tell  you  how  fine  I  think  you've  been,  Miss 
Joan,"  he  said  boyishly,  "  but  I  very  much  fear  you  will  be 
resented  by  the  majority  of  people  in  this  world.  You  may 
have  heard  of  a  certain  family  that  once  came  to  Bethle- 
hem.   '  There  was  no  room  for  them  at  the  inn ! '  ** 


CHAPTER  IV 
A  RECKONING  AND  A  RELEASE 

Next  morning  Ellen,  the  housemaid,  entered  Joan's  rooi 
and  shook  a  nest  of  blankets  till  a  ruffly  head  appeare 
somewhat  irately. 

"  Ten  o'clock.  Miss  J.,  an'  your  breakfast's  cold,  a 
your  father's  wanting  you  in  the  study  at  once,"  as  thou^ 
any  one  of  which  statements  were  not  sufficiently  disturl 
ing! 

Joan  closed  her  eyes  deliberately,  reaching  for  the  la 
poppy  in  the  basket  of  sleep,  a  hopeless  makeshift,  but  ( 
personal  satisfaction,  since  it  proved  that  she  would  tal 
no  dictation  from  Ellen.  A  half  hour  later,  sketchily  a 
tired  and  having  partaken  of  an  indifferent  breakfast,  si 
made  her  way  through  the  debris  of  the  dismantled  hous 
staled  with  yesterday's  celebration.  She  wondered  ho 
Agnes  and  Godfrey  were  beginning  their  honeymoon  ar 
if  they  too  freed  themselves  thankfully  from  the  feverii 
festivities. 

"  Summoned  to  the  royal  presence,"  she  called  to  Clair 
who  was  descending  for  a  belated  breakfast,  and  Claii 
groaned  back, 

"  Oh,  how  ghastly ! "  then  yawned  and  went  on. 

Joan  took  a  deep  breath,  fixed  an  ingratiating  smile  c 
her  face  and  rapped  at  her  father's  door.  Ever  since  1 
had  become  an  invalid  he  was  an  early  riser,  as  most  sel 
made  persons  are,  and  practised  the  old-time  virtues.  I: 
had  small  resources  now,  poor  man,  save  in  his  precisene: 


A  RECKONING  AND  A  RELEASE  45 

of  living,  his  tenacious  hold  on  his  financial  affairs,  and  an 
almost  childlike  interest  in  the  geography  of  the  world. 
Human  intercourse  was,  for  the  most  part,  denied  him  be- 
cause of  the  aggressive  manner  he  had  been  wont  to  affect 
until  it  became  habitual.  He  was  a  stranger  to  his  children 
and  a  greater  stranger  to  his  wife. 

The  tragedy  of  it  was  that  not  two  years  after  he  mar- 
ried her  he  had  come  bang  up  against  the  barrier  between 
Jenny  Wister  and  himself, — he  had  discovered  one  day  that 
she  was  still  Jenny  Morrow  and  would  remain  Jenny 
Morrow  till  she  died,  unless  she  should  wed  again  a  man 
whose  family  pretensions  engulfed  her  own,  which  was  not 
likely.  In  Crannsford  she  was  always  called  "  General 
Morrow's  daughter,"  and  half  the  time,  despite  his  definite 
personality,  Jonathan  Wister  was  referred  to  as  "  Jenny 
Morrow's  husband." 

And  yet  he  had  been  a  virile  Lochinvar  out  of  the  west 
whom  many  a  girl  sought  and  admired.  But  after  a  look 
at  Jenny  he  had  returned  the  others  the  brusquerie  of  one 
whose  affections  are  anchored.  He  was  tremendously 
breezy  and  compelling,  one  of  those  giants  who  wooed 
young  San  Francisco  in  the  '70s  until  she  yielded  to  him 
greatly. 

He  had  come  to  this  Mecca  of  his  choice  with  the  hot 
dust  of  the  Sacramento  valley  like  gold  upon  him,  and  a 
little  gold  in  his  pocket,  had  beheld  as  in  a  vision  San 
Francisco  on  her  series  of  hills  between  the  haze-hung, 
gloriously  colored  bay  and  the  Pacific  Ocean,  and  like 
Stevenson  had  known  her  for  the  city  of  his  soul.  A  few 
years  later,  having  established  a  backing,  he  was  building 
innumerable  middle-class  dwelling  houses,  bow-windowe< 
and  of  uncertain  architecture,  and  sowing  seeds  of  enter- 
prise with  a  steady  hand.  But  all  the  time  the  life  of  the 
bay  intrigued  him  and  he  would  sit  for  hours  brooding  upon 


46  BUND  WISDOM 

the  fishing  fleets  with  their  blazoned  Neapolitan  sail 
cruisers  home  from  the  north  seas,  tramp  windjamme 
bound  upon  strange  quests,  derelict  whalers  and  Chine 
junks. 

And,  always  fron?  his  characteristic  hilltop,  he  dreami 
a  dream  of  stolid  freighters,  plying  to  the  west.    .    . 
Until,  with  the  years,  his  dream  took  form,  cut  the  live 
water  with  a  myriad  prows,  and  followed  the  sun. 

When  Jonathan  Wister  came  to  Crannsford,  Connectici 
he  was  forty  and  already  rich.  He  found  a  maiden  au 
eking  out  an  existence  behind  closed  doors  and  set  her 
such  a  glare  of  affluence  that  the  poor  soul  fluttered  ai 
died,  no  doubt  from  the  shock  to  her  retiring  nature.  B 
General  Morrow's  daughter  came  to  the  funeral.  .  . 
Jonathan  was  able  to  understand  the  General's  pride  in  I 
daughter  since  she  was  delicately  lovely,  with  a  throat  li 
the  Duchess  of  Marlborough's,  but  his  pride  o'  race  he  fail 
to  comprehend,  since  the  General  had  built  no  houses  n 
founded  a  single  freight  line.  He  reasoned  logically  th 
he  could  make  Jenny  admire  him  even  more  than  she  a 
mired  her  father,  dying  in  poverty,  and  when  they  we 
married  he  set  about  to  do  it.  He  was  jealously  in  lo 
with  her  and  inordinately  proud. 

At  her  request  he  gave  up  his  picturesque  life  for  tl 
safety  of  Crannsford  and  it  was  Jenny's  concession  to  hi 
that  they  should  buy  the  largest  house  in  town,  of  Victori; 
pretensions  and  dubious  comforts.  She  would  have  pr 
ferred  one  of  the  older  Colonial  type,  but  Jonathan  point 
out  naively  that  this  house  had  bow-windows  to  admit  t] 
sun  through  the  fog  (he  was  still  thinking  like  a  S; 
Franciscan)  and  the  high  ceilings,  turrets  and  cupolas  we 
the  last  word  in  uselessness  and  therefore  to  be  prized,  i 
the  General  died  quite  happily  and  Jenny  Wister  essay ( 
to  found  life  with  her  husband.    But  each  day  she  su 


A  RECKONING  AND  A  RELEASE  47 

vived  a  series  of  aesthetic  shocks  that  sent  her  drooping  to 
the  window  with  an  appeaHng  eye  toward  the  cemetei^y. 

There  was  no  bond  between  them,  Jonathan  being  one  of 
nature's  own,  while  Jenny  had  been  reared  in  conformity 
with  an  exquisite  standard  that  admitted  of  small  tolerance. 
He  tried  at  first  to  humor  her,  blindly  convinced  that  it 
was  the  dear  girl  herself  who  was  out  of  drawing,  until 
gradually  the  bitter  truth  was  borne  in  upon  him  that  all 
Crannsford  conformed  to  Jenny's  type  save  himself.  For 
a  time  he  tried  assiduously  to  learn  the  new  tricks,  but  he 
was  "  too  old  a  dog  "  for  them.  The  customs  of  an  effete 
civilization  meant  nothing  to  him  and  he  could  not  make  her 
care  for  his  more  vigorous  concerns.  When  his  children 
grew  they  likewise  regarded  him  askance.  But  by  then 
Jonathan  had  taken  what  revenge  he  might  upon  a  heart- 
less fate.  Intolerably  hurt  by  his  wife's  aloofness,  he  had 
organized  his  imposing  reign  of  terror  and  reaped  the  re- 
ward, if  not  of  making  her  love  him,  at  least  of  acknowledg- 
ing him  a  force  with  which  to  be  reckoned. 

At  the  gruff  "  Come !  '*  Joan  opened  the  door  slightly, 
insinuated  herself  into  the  room  and  stood  awaiting  orders. 
Old  Jonathan  sat  figuring  accounts  at  his  desk  and  one 
conceived,  heaped  about  him,  the  gewgaws  of  the  family's 
extravagance.  His  back  was  to  her  and  as  always  Joan 
found  that  back,  with  its  heavy  stooping  shoulders,  its 
shaggy  white  hair,  and  choleric  neck,  a  dumb  reproach. 
Here  was  power,  but  power  bestrode  and  heavy-ridden. 
Atlas  proud  of  holding  the  world  on  his  shoulder,  yet  de- 
termined that  the  world  should  recognize  its  obligation. 
For  there  was  one  way  in  which  Mr.  Wister  had  subdued 
his  Crannsford  and  been  avenged  for  its  slights  of 
snobbery, — no  other  of  the  small-town  buds  had  enjoyed 
the  advantages  of  his  daughters,  no  home  was  run  on  so 
lavish  a  scale,  and  no  other  matron  so  grand  a  lady  as  his 


48  BLIND  WISDOM 

Jenny,  who,  through  their  long  years  together,  had  steadih 
flouted  him. 

It  was  a  matter  of  principle  with  him  to  grumble  at  ex 
pense,  to  seem  to  give  grudgingly.  The  small,  disagreeabl( 
ceremony  of  obtaining  what  they  wanted  was  perhaps  th< 
Only  shadowy  spot  in  the  lives  of  the  young  Wisters,  as  i 
was  certainly  the  one  perverse  pleasure  of  Jonathan's.  Afte 
five  minutes  of  pen-scratching  tedium,  during  which  tim 
Joan's  anxious  speculations  as  to  why  he  had  summonei 
her  trailed  off  into  vacuum,  her  father,  without  turning 
said^ 

"Sit  down!" 

She  did  so,  winding  her  legs  about  the  rounds  of  th 
chair,  and  otherwise  propping  and  comforting  her  bore^ 
and  exceedingly  thin  young  body  that  seemed  likely  t 
disintegrate.  Then,  as  he  continued  to  ignore  her,  sh 
counted  the  figures  of  the  wall-paper,  the  grooves  in  th 
molding,  and  the  panes  of  the  windows,  and  had  jus 
reached  the  figures  on  the  carpet  when  a  dynamic  interrup 
tion  occurred. 

Her  father,  having  goaded  his  figures  into  order,  gav 
a  sudden  fillip  to  the  wheels  of  his  chair  and,  presto,  sa 
facing  her!  So  long  had  he  maneuvered  by  means  o 
wheels  rather  than  limbs  that  he  had  taught  them  to  In 
terpret  his  every  mood.  They  gestured  more  eloquent!; 
than  hands.  And  Joan  was  familiar  with  each  interprets 
tion  and  its  significance,  the  slow  locomotion  when  he  wa 
depressed,  the  smooth  course  he  affected  before  stranger; 
and  the  sharpness  and  speed  with  which  he  could  mov 
when  aroused.    The  battery  of  his  eyes  bore  down  upon  hei 

In  the  helplessness  of  Jonathan  Wister's  old  age  on 
remembered  the  untrammeled  youth  he  must  have  llvec 
Although  the  years  of  confinement  had  inevitably  modifie 
him,  he  maintained  the  character  of  an  out-of-door  mar 


A  RECKONING  AND  A  RELEASE  49 

It  would  seem  that  the  florid  complexion  had  never  cooled 
from  its  California  suns  and  winds,  and  his  eyes  held  the 
blue  of  substantial  visions.  Had  it  not  been  overlaid  by 
cares  and  petty  irritabilities,  that  face  would  have  war- 
ranted a  sympathetic  study.    Then, 

"  Well,  young  lady,"  was  his  discouraging  beginning,  "  I 
have  a  letter  here  that  may  interest  you.  It  certainly  did 
me,"  and  he  produced  a  typewritten  missive,  as  correct  in 
form  as  the  ten  commandments.  The  while  she  perused  it 
her  father  sat,  almost  visibly  companioned  by  his  gloomy 
reflections.  "  Children  are  not  what  they  were  in  my  day," 
his  look  seemed  to  say.  "  They  have  no  stamina,  no  am- 
bition, no  responsibility ! " 

Joan  read, 

Mr.  Jonathan  Wister, 
Crannsford,  Conn. 

Dear  Sir: — It  is  with  the  greatest  reluctance  that  I  must 
now  inform  you  of  the  resolution  but  lately  adopted  by  Miss 
Bangs  and  me,  relating  to  the  presence  in  our  school  of 
your  daughter,  Joan.  To  elucidate  to  you  her  peculiar 
unfitness  for  boarding-school  life  and  the  undesirable 
influence  which  she  unwittingly  spreads,  is  indeed  a  delicate 
task,  but  I  feel  confident  that,  once  in  possession  of  the  facts, 
you  will  understand  the  situation  and  disabuse  us  of  all  save 
the  kindest  intentions. 

Of  her  ability  as  a  scholar  there  can  be  not  the  slightest 
doubt :  since  her  entry  into  our  school  she  has  learned  with 
an  avidity  far  surpassing  the  average  pupil's.  One  might 
almost  say,  "  There  comes  the  rub ! "  We  have  aimed  in 
our  program  to  provide  the  youthful  mind  with  a  thor- 
oughly broad  and  modern  viewpoint;  in  short,  to  fit  our 
young  ladies  to  the  times  in  which  they  live.  But  your 
daughter,  in  her  precocious  development,  has  ruthlessly  de- 
cried the  knowledge  of  our  instructors,  has  declared  from 
time  to  time  the  most  unorthodox  sentiments  and  evidenced 
a  deplorable  lack  of  reverence  for  approved  doctrines. 


50  *  BLIND  WISDOM 

The  insidious  influence  upon  the  other  scholars  has  a 
ready  been  remarked.  Judge  for  yourself  if  such  a  dangc 
is  to  be  tolerated.  Our  responsibility  to  other  parents  di( 
tates  our  judgment  in  the  matter,  and  we  are  at  last  cor 
strained  to  ask  that  she  be  removed. 

Possibly  under  a  closer  regime  in  the  earnest  atmosphei 
of  New  England  such  radical  tendencies  may  be  checke 
or  diverted  into  other  channels,  and  we  sincerely  hope  thi 
such  may  be  the  case. 

Trusting  that  in  the  future  we  may  still  enjoy  the  value 
patronage  of  Mrs.  Wister  and  yourself,  believe  me. 

Faithfully  yours, 

Eliza  Noyes. 

"  The  gray-whiskered  old  tabby ! "  exclaimed  Joan  f roi 
her  indignant  heart.  "  Just  because  I  asked  questions  nor 
of  them  could  answer,  just  because  I  dropped  astronom 
when  I  found  out  how  little  Miss  Tousy  knew.  Just  b( 
cause  I  clapped  after  the  minister  spoke  in  chapel    .    .     . 

"  That  will  do,"  warned  her  father  testily,  and  he  hitche 
his  chair  a  thought  nearer.  "  You  will  now  tell  me  i 
decent  order  what  the  woman  is  driving  at.  I  confess  I'l 
wholly  in  the  dark.  If  you  presume  to  know  more'n  yoi; 
teachers '* 

She  stood,  nervously  clasping  and  unclasping  her  hand 
her  mouth  a  straight,  angry  line  and  little  worry  wrinkle 
distracting  her  brow.  A  shaft  of  sunlight  stole  throug 
the  window  and  made  a  nest  of  gold  in  her  hair  and  thei 
was  the  illusion  that  it  was  short  and  tangled  like  a  child's. 

"  Don't  you  remember.  Father,  that  as  a  tot  you  couldn 
take  facts  on  faith?  You  had  to  touch  water  before  yo 
could  believe  that  it  was  wet ;  you  had  to  get  burned  bef oi 
you  really  comprehended  fire.  You  had  to  eat  them  and  t 
sick  to  your  tummy  before  you  knew  about  green  apples. 

How  well  he  knew  and  understood  such  pristine  curios 
ties ;  all  his  life  he  had  been  finding  out  things  for  himsel 


A  RECKONING  AND  A  RELEASE  51 

trusting  to  his  own  native  sagacity,  profiting  by  his  failures. 
But  all  he  said  was, 

"  Hmm,  get  to  the  point ! " 

"  After  you  had  had  these  experiences  first  hand  you 
were  strong  and  knew  how  to  treat  fire  and  water  and — 
and  green  apples." 

His  muscular  hands  tapped  the  chair-arm  impatiently, 
yet  she  saw  that  an  interest  had  been  kindled. 

"  But  in  this  kind  of  perfectly  proper  school,"  pursued 
the  child  reasonably,  "  all  the  lessons  are — predigested,  so 
to  speak.  They  tell  us  what  we  must  believe  about  every- 
thing in  the  world  and  then  discourage  us  to  investigate  for 
ourselves." 

"  For  instance  ?  " 

She  thought  a  minute,  then  answered,  with  a  wave  of  her 
hand, 

"  In  every  instance,  the  viewpoint  is  everlastingly  con- 
ventional !  All  the  stuffy  philosophers,  and  poets  who  kept 
to  the  *  straight  and  narrow,'  lauded  to  the  skies,  and  the 
unpopular  ones  treated  decently  too — if  they  happen  to  be 
dead !  They  know  where  they  are  with  a  dead  man.  But 
let  a  live  one  come  along  with  something  new  to  say,  and 
they  set  the  hounds  to  him."  She  smiled  slyly.  "  But  I 
like  the  underdogs,  and  so  I  began  defending  'em." 

"  I  suppose,"  suggested  her  father  with  killing  sarcasm, 
"you  were  ready  to  champion  the  devil  himself  and  show 
that  he  has  his  pleasant  side.  Faugh,  I've  no  patience  with 
such  heresy.  Let  me  tell  you  this,  young  lady,  the  world 
is  old  in  wisdom  while  you're  a  mere  chit — in  ignorance. 
If  you  don't  profit  by  its  experience  you'll  come  to  no  good 
end."  She  could  see  that  in  all  his  displeasure  with  her 
there  was  a  substratum  of  satisfaction  at  his  discourse.  It 
made  him  frown  the  more  fiercely  as  he  went  on,  *'  The 
best  principles  of  living  were  threshed  out  long  before  you 


52  BLIND  WISDOM 

were  born,  and  if  they're  handed  to  you  predigested,  a; 
you  say,  it's  for  efiiciency's  sake,  so  you  can  get  straigh 
down  to  living." 

"  Oh,"  she  wailed  in  protest,  "  I  don't  want  to  get  straigh 
down  to  living  with  some  one  else's  receipts.  I  want  to  liv 
like  the  birds,  flying  north  and  flying  south  when  I  feel  i 
in  me  to  fly,  and  never  bothering  with  sign-boards.  Dii 
you  ever  hear  of  a  bird  losing  its  way  ?  "  The  tears  glim 
mered  in  her  eyes,  but  suddenly  she  held  her  breath  for  he 
parent  had  grown  violently  apoplectic. 

Be  it  said  to  his  credit  that  Jonathan  Wister  seldon 
used  profanity  before  his  children,  but  it  was  known  that  h 
possessed  a  colorful  talent  along  that  line,  including  in  hi 
repertoire  frightful  words  of  heathen  flavor,  reminiscen 
of  Kearney  Street,  San  Francisco,  that  Rialto  of  adventur 
ers  where  in  early  days  he  had  consorted  with  the  m© 
who  made  up  his  shipping  crews.  The  occasion  tore  dowi 
the  ramparts  of  reserve  and  language  sluiced  through,  sud 
language  as,  outside  piratical  fiction,  Joan  had  never  hearc 
It  set  her  trembling  and  thrilling  to  the  depths  of  her  being 
She  was  in  wholesome  awe  of  her  father!  Oh,  it  wa 
splendid  to  hear  him  swear ! 

Then  all  at  once  he  lost  momentum.  He  saw  her,  scare 
more  than  a  child,  standing  like  a  slave  before  an  emperoi 
and  it  occurred  to  him  that  she  was  his  to  dispose  oi 
Gradually  the  purple  subsided  from  his  face,  leaving  i 
mottled  and  melancholy. 

"  You  will  return  to  school  to-morrow.  You  will  bear 
letter  from  me  in  which  I  shall  vouch  for  your  future  con 
formity  to  the  general  rule.  When  I  was  a  youngster  th 
only  schooling  I  had  was  out  of  a  few  old  primers  an 
histories  in  the  ranch-house  attic,  yessir,  an'  I'd  work  ove 
'em  at  night,  propping  my  eyes  open  with  my  fingers — ^b; 
the  Lord — an*  now  that  you,  with  every  advantage " 


A  RECKONING  AND  A  RELEASE  53 

He  choked  asthmatically.  Joan  assumed  an  expression 
of  superhuman  meekness,  for  the  story  of  his  deprivations 
and  industry  was  painfully  familiar,  and  she  hoped  he  was 
not  about  to  repeat  it.  When  the  second  crisis  was  averted 
she  pronounced  sweetly, 

"  Even  without  education  you  did  wonderful  things, 
didn't  you.  Father  ? "  Then,  as  he  was  not  to  be  corrupted 
by  flattery,  "Anyway,  don't  you  think  a  boarding-school 
education  is  rather  superficial  ?  " 

He  did  not  deign  a  reply.  Sammy,  his  negro  attendant, 
slipping  into  the  room  on  some  mission,  peeled  the  sympa- 
thetic white  of  one  eye  at  Joan,  and  received  in  return  the 

brave  pathos  of,  "  I-who-am-about-to-die-salute-you " 

During  the  interview  she  had  made  up  her  mind  that  she 
would  perish  before  she  crept  back,  a  miserable  recreant, 
to  the  stiff-backed  ladies  who  had  denounced  her.  No,  she 
would  be  the  world's  child,  flitting  hither  and  yon,  and 
only  sipping  of  such  knowledge  as  was  delicious.  This 
voice  "  as  bad  as  conscience  "  was  singing  in  her  ears.  Al- 
though neither  of  them  suspected  it,  she  was  essentially  her 
father's  daughter  at  that  moment. 

"  I  am  so  sorry,  sir,  that  I  cannot  obey  you."  She  spoke 
as  one  who,  through  no  fault  of  his,  becomes  the  mouth- 
piece of  ill  tidings. 

The  brown  head  simulated  modesty,  but  those  bright 
bird-eyes  seemed  saying,  " '  You  are  old,  Father  William,' 
and  you  must  fall  before  my  pretty  weapons." 

"  Oh-ho,  I  might  have  you  taken  there  bodily,"  he 
wheezed,  fingers  tapping  his  chair-arms  again,  like  tiny 
drums  and  tom-toms  to  orchestrate  his  displeasure, 

"  But  I  could  always  cry  out  and  that  would  create  such 
a  scandal,"  she  returned  politely. 

"  Or  I  could  keep  you  here  on  a  starvation  diet  till  you 
gave  in." 


54  BLIND  WISDOM 

"You  mean  *  caved  in/  Oh,  you'd  never,  never  be  sc 
cruel." 

He  threw  himself  back  with  a  sardonic  laugh. 

"  Egad,  there's  no  scaring  you !  But  I  don'f  know  where 
you  take  your  ideas  from.  They  ain't  mine,  nor  your 
mother's.  The  Morrows  worship  their  ancestors  like  the 
Chinese.  She'll  be  mad  as  a  hornet  when  she  gets  wind 
of  this,  and  want  to  whisk  you  back  like  lightnin'."  A 
grimly  malevolent  idea  quivered  along  his  ironic  mouth, 
the  light  of  whimsey  dawned  in  his  eyes.  Jenny  would  in- 
sist upon  Joan's  return,  but  not  for  the  reason  that  he  in- 
sisted, not  for  any  possible  wisdom  accruing  to  Joan,  rathei 
for  the  social  veneer.  Here  was  a  chance  to  show  hij 
superior  authority,  to  hurt  that  arch  enemy  whom  he  loved 
while  seeming  to  humor  the  child  herself.  And  since  he 
knew  no  way  of  controlling  her,  he  might  as  well  do  the 
other  thing.  From  the  time  that  she  defeated  him  Jonathar 
began  to  feel  a  sneaking  respect  for  his  youngest  daughter 
a  personal,  even  an  intimate  interest  in  her  development 
Agnes  and  Claire  were  both  cut  by  a  regular  pattern,  witt 
square  edges,  one  had  fitted  beside  the  other  with  compara- 
tive ease,  but  here  was  the  odd  piece  with  so  many  facets 
that  it  baffled  him  to  place  her. 

"Run  along,"  he  snapped  laconically.  "Tell  youi 
mother  your  schoolma'am  has  called  you  *a  queer  Dick 
and  invited  you  to  stay  away.  There  must  be  studies  yot 
can  take  at  home.    I  warn  you  now,  no  runnin'  wild ! " 

He  growled  conscientiously.  There  is  nothing,  after  all 
so  strenuous  as  living  up  to  a  bad  reputation — unless  it  i: 
trying  to  live  down  a  good  one. 

"  No,  indeed,  sir,  and  thank  you  so  much,  sir,  and  shal 
I  call  Sammy?" 

She  backed  discreetly  away,  but  once  outside  the  lugubri 
ous  room  she  ran,  she  skipped,  and  she  turned  cart-wheeli 


A  RECKONLNG  AND  A  RELEASE  55 

with  sublime  insanity.  It  meant  putting  lier  hair  on  her 
head,  occasionally  having  a  breakfast  tray  like  Claire,  and 
being  altogether  a  person  of  consequence.  And  no  Miss 
Bangs  or  Miss  Noyes  to  frost-nip  her  inspirations.  Only 
Madame  of  tender  indulgence  she  would  miss,  and  that 
night  she  wrote  her  a  letter  of  imposing  finality. 

"Adieu,  chere  Madame,"  it  concluded,  "  je  ne  retoumerai 
jamais." 


CHAPTER  V 
LISHABY 

Through  the  vernal  maze  of  her  garden  Joan's  step  wa; 
sprightly.  She  was  en  route  to  visit  old  Lishaby,  and  stil 
young  enough  to  account  such  visits  adventurous.  "  Lish 
aby,"  a  lisping  substitute  evolved  by  the  infant  Wisters  fo: 
the  more  arbitrary  "Elizabeth,"  lived  in  a  weathered  cot 
tage  that  rose  from  foaming  lilacs  and  spicy  moss  pinks  oi 
the  hillside  above  the  gardens.  There  was  something  ac 
cidental,  almost  spontaneous  in  the  position  of  the  ram 
shackle  dwelling,  as  though  it  had  wandered  dementedl] 
along  the  ridge  to  find  the  most  dare-devil  position  for  itself 
It  tilted  like  a  gossip  toward  the  intimate  domesticity  below 
and  its  series  of  crazy  terraces,  relying  upon  the  suppor 
of  field  stones,  ran  all  ways  save  parallel.  But  in  spring 
the  hillside  formed  a  background  of  great  loveliness 
clothed  as  it  was  in  delicate  green,  the  white  of  dog-wooc 
and  the  flush  of  wild  cherry,  while,  winsome  as  a  bride': 
bouquet,  the  shad-blow  shook  out  its  feather  fineness. 

In  midsummer  Lishaby's  garden,  planted  on  one  of  th( 
precarious  terraces,  was  rank  with  sweet-william  and  rose 
mary,  slumberous  poppies,  Johnny-jump-up,  and  bachelor'; 
buttons,  veering  from  blue  to  pink  like  an  irregularity  o: 
rhyme.  When  Lishaby  arranged  a  bouquet  it  was  of  be 
wildering  variety,  but  invariably  held  a  rose-leaf  geraniun 
or  a  sprig  of  lemon  verbena  as  the  piece  de  resistance. 

Even  in  autumn  the  cottage  gathered  to  itself  a  raci© 


LISHABY  57 

tang  of  ripeness  than  its  environs  could  boast.  The  pump- 
kins were  jolly  fat  men  toasting  in  the  sun,  the  apples  like 
red  cheeks  pressed  to  each  window-pane,  and  the  tall  sun- 
flowers stalking  about  the  house  looked  down  upon  a  chance 
climber  with  brown,  detached  eyes. 

As  she  ascended  the  stony  pathway  Joan  recalled  pen- 
sively the  days  when  old  Lishaby  had  reigned  at  the  big 
house,  first  as  nurse,  then  as  cook,  and  finally  in  a  fascinat- 
ing, undefined  capacity  that  left  her  free  as  court  jester  to 
them  all.  And  such  entertainment  as  she  provided!  Hav- 
ing reared  sixteen  children  and  found  husbands  and  wives 
for  them,  she  would  remark  that  she  was  at  last  "  free  as 
the  air."  Certainly  she  had  suffered  no  diminution  of 
spirits  from  the  years  of  servitude.  A  great,  ungainly 
woman,  with  rough,  exuberant  ways,  she  never  allowed 
the  household  to  be  dull. 

One  of  the  many  institutions  she  had  inaugurated  was 
the  yearly  visit  of  the  organ-grinder,  who  came  in  spring 
as  surely  as  did  the  dandelions,  and  stayed  an  entire  day, 
his  battered  instrument  on  his  back,  with  a  monkey  perching, 
anxious-eyed,  atop.  From  the  moment  that  he  entered  the 
drive  pandemonium  broke  loose.  Old  Lishaby  ran  to  meet 
him,  whooping  like  a  Comanchee,  her  husband,  that  colossal 
loafer,  lounged  down  from  the  hillside,  neighbors  peered 
over  the  fences  and  the  day  began.  The  maids  from  the 
house  and  the  men  from  the  stables  thronging  the  back 
stoop  turned  sheepish  with  delight  when  Lishaby  picked 
up  her  skirts  and  did  a  turn  to  the  music. 

But  all  her  moods  were  not  merry.  She  would  sit  with 
two  youngsters  on  her  lap  playing  such  dolorous  tunes  on 
the  Jew's-harp  as  would  have  wrung  tears  from  a  stone. 
Her  "  ol'  man  "  as  she  called  him,  made  rag  dolls  for  the 
little  girls  in  the  evening  and  Lishaby  patched  quilts  against 
the  nuptial  day  of  each. 


58  BLIND  WISDOM 

It  had  been  the  resentment  of  her  life  that  with  the 
growing  dignity  of  the  Wister  family  she  was  kindly  but 
inexorably  shoved  to  the  wall.  True,  she  subsisted  on  their 
bounty,  but,  save  for  isolated  instances,  she  no  longer  put 
the  spice  in  their  lives.  Joan  was  the  one  who  remained 
closest  now  to  Lishaby,  most  intimate  with  her  supersti- 
tions, her  devilment,  her  "  spells  and  charms."  All  three 
girls  had  obtained  perspective  on  her  as  the  wild,  un- 
tutored creature  she  was,  but  no  doubt  Joan  recognized  in 
her  that  touch  of  the  fantastic  and  faery  akin  to  her  own 
nature.  Then,  too,  she  knew  days  of  holding  tenaciously 
to  her  childhood,  and  finding  Lishaby  the  only  existing 
link  between.  She  made  the  last  ascent  with  a  bound  and 
hopped  over  Lishaby's  threshold  like  a  pixie.  Lishaby 
was  making  doughnuts  in  hot  grease  and  the  pungency  of 
them  mingled  with  the  heavy  fragrance  of  the  lilacs  that 
billowed  in  through  the  open  door. 

"  Land  alive,"  she  exclaimed,  her  eyes  dancing  in  un- 
feigned delight  at  the  visit,  "but  you  give  me  the  jumps! 
A  body  never  knows  when  you'll  pop  in  an*  scare  *em  out 
o'  daylights.  How  be  your  Ma  ?  Lookin'  to  marry  off  you 
an*  Claire  now,  I  bet  my  life.  Humph !  "  She  always  made 
a  point  of  disparaging  the  Wister  family  to  its  members, 
though  she  would  willingly  have  died  for  any  one  of  them. 

Joan  came  to  the  stove,  smacked  her  lips,  and  they  hung 
over  the  kettle  like  high  priestesses.  The  doughnuts,  of 
course,  were  for  her  consumption. 

"  *Pears  like  you're  plumb  starved  out  for  respectable 
food,**  Lishaby  commiserated.  "Your  Ma  was  pretty 
smart  when  she  got  a  city  cook  so's  all  Crannsford  could 
know  she  had  one.  But  I  guess  no  one  ain*t  never  cooked 
you  the  dishes  I  useter  git  up,  afore  nor  after.  Had  any 
Jerusalem  puddin*  since  she  come  ?  " 

Joan  shook  her  head  and  Lishaby's  spirits  soared. 


LISHABY  S9 

"  Course  you  ain't,  'cuz  I  inventioned  it !  Nor  you  ain't 
had  mock-duck,  nor  lob-skow,  nor  apple  slump, — nothin' 
fit  to  eat." 

"  You're  right,  we  haven't  had  those  old-fashioned 
things,"  said  Joan  mischievously,  "  but  we've  had  Waldorf 
salad,  an'  turtle  soup,  an' — an' " 

"  Truck,"  screamed  Lishaby  loudly.  Then,  in  a  milder 
tone,  "  How's  your  Pa  ?  Up  on  his  hind  legs  'bout  your 
schoolin'  ?  If  he  ain't  the  beatenest  man — all  the  time  sour 
as  vinegar  at  life  in  general." 

"I  wonder,"  mused  Joan,  "what  ever  made  him  so?" 

Lishaby  looked  at  her  hard.  If  the  children  did  not 
know,  it  was  none  of  her  business  to  tell  him.    But, 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  started  him  actin'  like  a  bear/*  she 
volimteered,  dropping  the  dough  into  the  grease  and  wiping 
her  forehead  with  the  back  of  her  hand.  "  Along  'bout  the 
first  of  him  ailin*  with  his  legs  he  got  riled  up  at  Doc  Fre- 
mont. The  Doc  had  come  till  he'd  wore  a  path  most  to  the 
door.  He  had  whiskers  like  Father  Time,  an'  he  carried 
a  bag  o'  calomel  an'  some  little  p'ison  pills  he  give  your  Pa, 
an'  alius,  jest  as  he  was  leavin'  he'd  say,  smooth  an'  hope- 
ful-like, *  Continoo  with  the  pellets ! '  But  there  come  a 
time  when  he  said  it  once  too  many.  That  day  your  Pa 
began  to  bile,  an'  he  up  an'  hove  his  slipper  at  him.  It  hit 
Doc  Fremont  plumb  in  the  small  o'  his  back." 

Her  body  underwent  violent  commotion,  in  imitation  of 
one  meeting  with  such  an  indignity,  and  the  doughnut 
poised  on  her  fork  shied  across  the  kitchen  and  hit  the  cat. 
Thence,  rubbing  the  base  of  her  spine  with  a  greasy  hand, 
rolling  her  eyes  and  lifting  her  skirts  over  her  comedy  feet, 
she  made  a  killing  exit.    Joan  shrieked  with  delight. 

"  That,"  resumed  Lishaby  complacently,  "  was  the  start- 
off.  He  seen  right  away  what  a  smart  thing  he'd  done. 
'Fore  night  everybody  in  Crannsford  had  heerd  on't  an* 


6o  BLIND  WISDOM 

was  callin'  your  Pa  a  terror.  An'  'peared  to  me  he  enj'yed 
it  so  much  he  kept  right  on." 

Later  they  sat  on  the  sunny  step  with  a  large  cracked 
cup  between  them  and  Lishaby  told  Joan's  fortune  in  the 
tea  leaves.  A  hen  walked  over  the  old  woman's  lap  with- 
out disturbing  her  pose  of  a  prophetess.  Just  how  much 
credence  Joan,  with  her  keen  little  mind,  placed  on  the 
proceeding  is  open  to  conjecture,  but  it  was  a  delectable 
game  of  which  she  never  tired.  In  the  cup  were,  very 
plausibly,  "  two  gentlemen,"  one  with  encumbrances  and 
one  without;  and  both  would  figure  in  her  fate.  Last  of 
all,  "  Look  at  your  Pa  there,"  she  exclaimed  so  sharply  that 
Joan  started.  "  Not  here,  child,  in  the  cup.  If  that  ain't 
St.  Peter  at  his  elbow,  I'll  eat  my  hat,"  and  notwithstand- 
ing the  child's  look  of  horror  she  went  on  with  her  grim 
joke.  "  You  tell  him  for  me  it's  time  he  quit  sassin'  the 
world  an'  got  sweet-humored  for  the  next." 

Her  interest  died  as  abruptly  as  it  had  begun.  *'  Here 
you,  Columbus,"  she  called  and  waved  her  hand  to  her 
"  ol'  man,"  who  was  trudging  up  the  hill  with  a  wheel- 
barrow. Invariably  he  was  seen  in  conjunction  with  one, 
and  it  was  invariably  empty,  but  he  was  somehow  under 
the  impression  that  it  earned  him  a  reputation  for  industry. 
As  he  came  he  sang  tunefully : 

"  You  may  talk  of  your  riches  of  Venus  an*  Mars, 
Of  sunlight,  an'  moonlight,  an*  daylight,  an'  stars '* 

For  as  long  as  she  could  remember  Joan  had  heard  that 
much  of  his  song  and  no  more.  Lishaby's  "  ol'  man  "  was 
a  happy,  shiftless  soul  that  age  despaired  of  marking.  As 
there  was  presumably  little  gray  matter  in  his  iiead,  his 
hair  had  never  turned  gray,  but  remained  a  jaundiced  yel- 
low. People  said  in  Crannsford  that  nothing  in  life  had 
for  long  disturbed  his  equanimity. 


LISHABY  6l 

Now  as  he  approached  he  favored  Joan  with  a  wink,  for 
he  was  fond  of  appearing  henpecked. 

"  When  she  calls  me  '  Columbus '  I  know  she  wants  I 
should  fetch  the  cow,"  he  explained,  jerking  a  thumb 
toward  the  wife  of  his  bosom,  who  hulked  like  a  great  sibyl 
on  the  doorstep.  "  '  Ol'  man '  means  she's  a  hoppin'  'bout 
somethin'  I  ain't  done,  an'  '  Columbie '  means  feed  the 
chickens.  I  don't  haf  to  ask,"  and  he  went  grumbling  to 
the  rear  of  the  house. 

Joan  romped  home  through  the  gardens,  stimulated  as 
always  by  a  visit  to  Lishaby's.  And  just  as  she  had  pre- 
viously met  a  man  of  tea-leaves,  so  she  now  met  one  in  the 
flesh.  It  was  Jerry  Callendar,  bearing  a  book,  a  box  of 
bonbons  and  an  expectant  smile. 

"  Oh,  how  do  you  do,"  stammered  Joan,  taking  the  hand 
he  proffered.  "  I  didn't  suppose  you'd  remember  to  come 
again.    I'll  call  Mother,  I'll  tell  Claire,  I'll " 

It  seemed  thoroughly  improbable  that  Thirty  could  be 
interested  in  the  conversation  of  Seventeen. 

"  Thanks,"  he  acknowledged  drily,  "  but  must  you  ?  " 


CHAPTER  VI 
A  FLOWERING  FRIENDSHIP 

That  whimsical  query  of  Jerry's  had  put  Joan,  as  the 
French  say,  against  the  wall.  And  while  she  was  ponder- 
ing the  polite  thing  to  do  Thirty  and  Seventeen  drifted 
resistlessly  up  and  down  the  garden  path  in  the  mellow 
late  afternoon.  She  was  surprised  to  find  how  easily  con- 
versation flowered  between  them ;  even  friendship  became  a 
mushroom  growth  before  one  could  say  "  Jack  Robinson." 

But,  being  too  young  for  feminine  wiles,  her  impressions 
of  him  were  only  vaguely  favorable.  He  was  of  medium 
height  and  well  assembled,  and  there  was  something  care- 
lessly right  in  the  set  of  his  blue  clothes.  In  contrast  to  his 
red-brown  face  his  negligee  collar  made  a  note  of  white. 
An  older  woman  could  have  told  her  that  his  dark  hair  held 
a  boyish  crispness  very  appealing  to  women,  that  his  eyes 
were  fine  and  his  mouth  tender.  But  Joan  sensed  only  that 
he  was  an  entirely  new  type  of  grown-up  and  one  might 
readily  acquire  a  taste  for  him. 

"  I  suppose  you  know,"  he  was  saying  very  gaily,  "  that 
your  shining  virtue  the  time  of  the  wedding  made  the  rest 
of  us  appear  black  by  contrast." 

"  You  mean — Lily  ?  "  She  shot  an  interrogative  glance, 
half  inclined  to  believe  that  he  was  ragging  her.  "  Oh,  how 
can  you  say  that,  when  I  made  a  muddle  of  the  whole 
thing?  It  was  you  who  came  to  the  rescue.  How  is  Lily 
Gray?" 

She  was  told  that  Lily  was  one  of  four  stenographers  in 


A  FLOWERING  FRIENDSHIP  63 

their  law  offices,  and  that  he  was  keeping  a  fatherly  eye 
upon  her. 

"But  there's  really  nothing  so  difficult  to  father  as  a 
stenographer,"  he  added  with  a  gleam,  "  if  you  don't  wish 
to  be  suspected  of  amorous  intent." 

"  I'm  glad  you're  looking  after  her,"  smiled  Joan,  catch- 
ing the  gleam,  "  but  honestly  I  can't  let  you  think  I'm  good. 
You  wouldn't,  if  you  knew  what  a  dreadful  thing  I  have 
just  done." 

"  Tell  me.  I'm  used  to  dreadful  things.  If  it  wasn't 
for  people  doing  them  how  should  we  lawyers  ever  turn  an 
honest  dollar?  Perhaps  you'd  like  some  professional  ad- 
vice." 

And  with  mock  gravity  he  rummaged  for  a  card. 

He  had  the  whimsical  face  and  manner  that  invite  con- 
fidences. Also,  Joan  thought,  he  was  like  a  conjurer  with 
a  brand  new  bag  of  tricks,  and  she  was  beginning  to  enjoy 
herself  very  much. 

"  I've  gotten  myself  expelled  from  school,"  she  an- 
nounced ruefully,  "*nor  all  the  king's  horses  nor  all  the 
king's  men '  " 

"  Could  reinstate  Joan  in  the  class-room  again,"  he  nimbly 
completed  the  rhyme. 

"  Exactly,"  she  nodded  with  an  incipient  dimple.  "  Now 
what  do  you  think  of  me  ?  " 

His  eyes  were  warm  with  raillery,  and  from  them  a  line 
of  tiny  wrinkles  awoke  like  parentheses  down  his  cheek. 

"  I  think  that  you  are  an  entirely  natural  young  person 
with  a  probable  taste  for  chocolates,  and  that  you  had 
better  delve  into  this  highly  decorated  box  at  once.'" 

"  But,  seriously,"  she  begged,  "  don't  you  disapprove  of 
such  behavior  ?  " 

His  smile  held  steady. 

*'  You  haven't  told  me  your  heinous  offence." 


64  BLIND  WISDOM 

She  told  him  as  she  had  told  her  father,  holding  the 
while  in  abeyance  a  candied  cherry  no  brighter  than  her 
lips.  Jerry  Callendar,  aware  of  that  tempting  harmony  of 
color,  found  it  difficult  to  follow  the  thread  of  her  discourse, 
till,  with  an  interlude  of  thought,  she  popped  the  distracting 
cherry  into  her  mouth.  Then  each  regarded  the  other 
soberly. 

"  What  you  have  said,"  he  mused,  "  opens  up  an  in- 
teresting field  of  thought.  And  I  like  that  phrase  of  yours, 
'  predigested  education.'  You'd  be  surprised  if  you  knew 
how  many  of  our  colleges'  greatest  men  got  themselves 
expelled.  Awf'ly  inconsiderate  of  them, — making  it  so 
awkward  for  their  alma  mater  to  claim  them  in  after  years. 
Hnmi, — Ibsen  swore  that  the  minority  is  always  right, 
though  I'd  perhaps  modify  that."  And  after  a  moment  he 
added  gently,  "  The  world  will  be  your  school  now,  little 
Joan,  and  you  must  welcome  any  experience  it  brings  you, 
even  the  painful  kind " 

He  reached  above  him  for  a  flowering  branch  and  made 
a  little  ceremony  of  shaking  the  petals  over  her  head. 

"  Because  *  from  your  great  sorrows  you  will  make  your 
little  songs.' "  ' 

"  That's  pretty,"  she  sighed  dreamily,  "  that's  like  poetry," 
and  was  unaware  that  she  herself  at  that  moment  presented 
a  figure  of  fantasy,  for  the  setting  sun  made  luminous  the 
blue  of  her  frock,  turned  the  flowers  on  her  hair  to  a 
sprinkling  of  light,  and  showed  how  young  and  touchingly 
untouched  her  face  still  was. 

"  Only  a  poet  could  have  said  it,"  returned  Jerry,  whose 
aesthetic  sense  delighted  in  her,  "  a  certain  musician  named 
Robert  Franz." 

"  Oh,"  she  cried  quickly,  "  I've  always  loved  experi- 
ence. Once  when  I  was  small  I  fell  out  of  the  swing 
and  broke  my  arm,  so  they  had  to  take  me  to  the  hospitaL 


A  FLOWERING  FRIENDSHIP  65 

And  after  the  doctor  had  set  it  he  asked  me,  '  How  do  you 
feel  now  ? '  and  I  told  him  I  felt  like  the  luckiest  little  girl 
in  the  world,  first  to  ride  in  an  ambulance  and  then  to  be 
in  the  hospital." 

They  laughed  in  gay  chorus  and  their  laughter  rose  al- 
most visibly  on  the  still  air,  till  it  was  lost  in  the  fogging 
trees  above. 

"  A  healthy  point  of  view,"  declared  Jerry  stoutly.  "  It 
isn't  what  happens  to  men  and  women  and  children  that 
counts;  it's  the  way  they  react.  That's  what  I'm  trying  to 
demonstrate  in  my  plays;  throw  your  characters  against  a 
situation  and  watch  their  individual  developments.  What 
destroys  one  may  make  another, — that  sort  of  thing.  But 
it's  hard  not  to  write  at  the  top  of  your  lungs ! " 

"  Plays  ?     Do  you  write  plays  ?     I  never  knew." 

"  No  ?  "  He  made  a  little  gesture  of  seeking  permission 
and  lighted  a  cigarette.  "  Now,  that's  strange,  seeing  I'm 
as  discreet  about  it  as  a  burglar.  But  it's  my  real  occupa- 
tion— I  might  say  preoccupation,  while  plugging  away  in 
stuffy  offices  for  a  living  is — the  necessary  evil.  Some 
golden  day  I  fancy  I  shall  close  my  desk  and  go  sprawl  in 
the  sun  forever  and — continue  to  write  plays." 

"And  when  they're  done?",  quizzed  Joan  curiously. 

He  blew  fascinating  rings  and  watched  her  through  the 
haze. 

"  When  one  is  finished  I  place  it  tenderly  in  a  big  trunk, 
uncover  my  head  respectfully  and  murmur,  *  Dust  to  dust, 
ashes  to  ashes.'     Then  I  turn  the  key  and  start  another." 

One  needed  to  watch  very  closely  to  gauge  his  gravity: 
that  was  the  odd  fascination  of  Jerry  Callendar.  But  at 
length  she  hazarded  a  surmise. 

"  You're  waiting  till  one  is  perfect  before  you  have  it 
produced." 

"Am  I?    Well,  perhaps  you're  right.     And  at  present 


^  BLIND  WISDOM 

I'm  engaged  in  writing  the  third  act  of  a  particularly  im- 
perfect one,  and  I've  just  left  it  at  the  word  *  and.'  And 
in  all  the  English  language,"  he  assured  her,  "  no  word  is  so 
difficult  to  go  on  from  as  '  and.'     I  dare  say  it's  like  getting 

married, — almost  anything  may  come  after "    Then 

he  broke  off  abruptly,  feeling  her  innocent  eyes  fixed  upon 
him.  One  could  not  show  cynicism  to  a  child  like  that, 
whose  mind  was  a  nest  of  eager  birdling  thoughts  ready  to 
fly  in  any  direction.  He  was  thinking  problematically  of 
the  marriage  of  Agnes  and  Godfrey,  which  was,  of  course, 
the  last  thing  in  the  world  he  could  have  discussed  with  her. 

"  Love,"  she  soliloquized  with  a  puckered  brow,  "  must 
be  thrilling.  Marriage — I  don't  know.  I've  never  thought 
much  about  it,  at  least  I  am  just  beginning  to  think  about 
it.  In  all  the  books  love  sounds  so  upsetting,  but  marriage, 
I  suppose,  is  just  being  comfortable  and  ordering  meals  and 
getting  the  children  to  Sunday  School;" 

"Just  that,  I  dare  say,"  agreed  the  highly  edified  Jerry, 
"  unless  marriage  and  love  should  go  hand  in  hand,  and  I 

can't  tell  you  whether  that  actually  ever "    But  again 

he  broke  off  conscientiously. 

"Don't  you  believe  that  it  does?"  she  tripped  him  up 
like  lightning,  and  recognized  his  discomfort. 

"  It's  best  to  believe  it,"  he  hastened  to  be  wholesome. 
"  I  believe  it  just  to  be  on  the  safe  side  in  case  it's  true,  half 
ideal,  half  superstition,  like  looking  at  the  moon  over  your 
right  shoulder." 

"And  if  I  fall  in  love,"  she  pursued,  convinced  that  at 
last  she  had  reached  the  fount  of  all  wisdom,  "  how  shall  I 
know  it  for  certain?    Shall  I  feel  squeamish?" 

"  With  infatuation  most  assuredly,  loss  of  appetite,  loss 
of  sleep,  delusions  and  unbalance.  But  if  I  were  you  and 
ever  found  myself  with  those  symptoms,  little  Joan,  I'd  test 
them  by  thorough  logic.    I'd  ask  myself  the  three  questions. 


A  FLOWERING  FRIENDSHIP  tj 

*  Do  I  admire  his  mind?  Is  he  physically  attractive  to  me? 
Are  we  comrades  ? '  And  if  the  answer  to  them  all  were 
'  yes '  I'd  be  reasonably  sure  I  had  stumbled  upon  the  big 
thing." 

So  engrossed  were  they  both  in  bright  speculation  that 
neither  had  noticed  twilight  was  deepening  and  keeping  pace 
with  them  on  the  garden  path  like  a  woman  in  dark  gar- 
ments. 

"  I'd  like  to  ask  an  awfully  impertinent  question,"  she 
stammered  under  cover  of  it.  "  Were  you — that  is,  have 
you  ever ?  " 

"  Ever  experienced  the  sensation  ? "  He  .smoked  hu- 
morously, emanating  a  faint  fragrance  of  tobacco  and  tweed 
that  ever  afterward  characterized  him  to  Joan.  "  Once," 
he  confided,  "  at  the  mature  age  of  sixteen  I  worshipped  at 
the  shrine  of  a  goddess  next  door.  She  was  wholly  un- 
known to  me,  and  at  least  a  dozen  years  my  senior,  but  my 
imagination  made  her  wear  an  aura  of  enchantment.  I  had 
a  long  siege  of  puppy  love-sickness  during  which  I  flunked 
my  exams  and  tried  to  raise  a  mustache.  And  finally  I 
composed  a  love  declaration  in  the  style  of  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
which  I  determined  to  present  in  person.  But  while  I  was 
climbing  her  steps  like  the  stairway  to  heaven  the  beauteous 
one  herself  emerged." 

He  coughed  drily  at  the  recollection. 

"  She  was  holding  by  the  hand  a  very  tangible  offspring 
which  in  my  devotion  I  had  somehow  overlooked,  and 
escorted  by  a  plump  gentleman  with  pink  whiskers,  who 
promptly  bawled  out,  'What's  wanted,  my  lad?'" 

Joan  wailed  sympathetically,  and  besought  an  anti-climax. 

"  Oh,"  admitted  Jerry  dubiously,  "as  the  slang  goes,  '  my 
game  was  gummed.'  I  burned  the  love  ballad  at  once  and 
took  to  sulking  in  the  dog  kennel  under  the  impression  that 
I  would  become  a  monk." 


68  BLIND  WISDOM 

Through  the  intimate  dusk  came  Mrs.  Wister's  clarion 
voice,  summoning  them  in. 

"  Is  that  Mr.  Callendar  with  you?  You'll  both  be  taking 
cold." 

Possibly  she  remembered  the  Blunts'  indictment  of  him 
as  an  irresponsible.  So  thought  Jerry  as  he  and  Joan  came 
marching  obediently  through  the  entrancing  but  treacherous 
evening  mist  to  that  arbitrary  square  of  light,  the  open  door. 
As  they  neared  it  he  felt  himself  stiffening  and  aging  and 
deliberately  assuming  the  demeanor  his  hostess  would  ex- 
pect him  to  wear.  He  had  left  his  office  that  day,  sick  for  a 
taste  of  life  still  limpid  and  refreshing,  unpolluted  by  ordi- 
nary standards,  and  at  the  psychological  moment  his 
memory  had  given  him  Joan,  that  engaging  little  black  sheep 
out  in  Crannsford. 

Because  she  had  no  idea  that  she  was  doing  it,  he  had 
ingenuously  allowed  himself  to  be  charmed.  This  child 
would  bear  cultivation.  He  wanted  to  sow  in  her  mind 
the  most  carefully  selected  seeds  of  culture,  and  in  later 
years  pluck,  like  any  delighted  gardener,  the  high-bred 
blooms.  He  was  stirred  by  the  great  impulse,  both  selfish 
and  altruistic. 

But  as  they  entered  the  house  to  greet  her  mother,  it 
came  upon  him  as  a  decided  shock  that  her  skirts  were 
above  her  shoe-tops,  and  she  was  marshalled  up-stairs  to 
dress  for  dinner  as  though  she  were  still  a  fledgling  of  the 
nursery. 

All  during  dinner  Jerry  remained  a  melancholy  thirty. 


CHAPTER  VII 
CONCERNING  CLAIRE 

"  I  COULD  not  ask  for  a  more  complete  life,"  Agnes  Blunt 
wrote  her  mother  in  the  second  year  of  her  marriage. 
"  Godfrey  is  all  that  a  husband  shall  be.  He  tries  con- 
scientiously to  please  both  his  family  and  me,  and  is  spoken 
of  as  one  of  the  coming  young  lawyers.  It  is  a  pity  he 
should  be  frequently  called  out  of  town,  and  although  I  am 
perfectly  willing  to  accompany  him  and  minister  to  his 
comfort  in  any  way  I  can,  the  dear  boy  insists  that  I  remain, 
fearing  that  the  little  journeys  may  overtax  me. 

"  In  our  own  home  we  entertain  a  very  few  of  Godfrey's 
friends  (he  being  properly  guarded  in  whom  he  invites  to 
share  our  hearth-side).  Mr.  Callendar,  or  'Jerry,'  as  I  now 
think  it  fitting  to  call  him,  is  a  frequent  visitor,  and  though  I 
confess  I  deplore  in  him  at  times  a  certain  levity,  he  is  with- 
out doubt  a  man  of  cultivation  and  devoted  to  Godfrey. 
He  (Jerry)  tells  me  that  he  calls  upon  you  regularly  now,  so 
no  doubt  you  will  be  interested  in  his  antecedents.  His 
father  is  a  rather  famous  criminal  lawyer,  a  dignified  and 
somewhat  forbidding  person  with  an  old-fashioned  house  in 
Washington  Square.  It  seems  that  Mrs.  Callendar,  now 
dead,  was  a  pretty  and  emotional  woman,  and  that  Judge 
Callendar,  scenting  a  tincture  of  her  sweetness  in  Jerry, 
determined  to  nip  in  the  bud  any  impractical  tendencies  and 
has  consistently  kept  him  to  the  grindstone  since  he  was  a 
lad.  I  see  no  reason  at  all  to  discourage  his  (Jerry's) 
friendly  attentions,  unless  he  is  seriously  interested  in  Claire, 


70  BLIND  WISDOM 

when  it  might  be  well  to  inform  you  that  he  is  not  known  as 
'  a  marrying  man.'  So  wrong-minded  and  selfish,  I  always 
think !  Every  man  should  marry,  should  he  not,  Mama,  and 
become  a  good  husband,  a  good  father  and  a  good  citizen. 

"  Many  thanks  for  all  the  little  knitted  things  you  sent. 
I  have  the  bassinet  nearly  complete.  .  .  .  Godfrey 
seems  quite  in  awe  of  the  coming  event." 

Mrs.  Wister  folded  the  page  and  wiped  her  eyes,  while 
Claire  and  Joan,  looking  unutterably  impish,  kept  demure 
silence.  The  whole  tenor  of  the  letter  was  one  which  made 
them  chafe,  Agnes'  sobriety  always  seeming  like  a  reflection 
upon  their  own  healthy  waywardness.  Yet  it  occurred  to 
none  of  them  to  read  between  the  lines. 

"  Dear  Agnes,"  murmured  Mrs.  Wister  complacently, 
"and  dear  Godfrey!  How  well  it  is  all  turning  out.  I 
hope,"  sentimentally,  "  that  it  will  be  a  boy.  Claire,  dear, 
I  wish  that  you " 

"  Oh,  I  know.  Mother,"  cried  Claire  impatiently,  spring- 
ing up  and  powdering  her  nose  with  great  energy,  "  that  you 
are  about  to  wish  me  married  to  some  one  as  nice  as  God- 
frey, with  my  hash  all  settled.  Don't — please,  it's  like  wish- 
ing my  young  life  away.  I  want " — she  sighed  vapor- 
ously,  "  romance,  thrills, — adventure — color !  "  Her  voice 
rose  upon  each  word,  so  that  her  mother  and  Joan  paid  her 
the  tribute  of  open-mouthed  amazement. 

"You  must  not  speak  so  flippantly  of  Agnes*  marriage, 
darling,"  protested  Mrs.  Wister,  by  whom  it  had  been  con- 
ceived and  executed,  "  I  only  wish "  but  seeing  Claire 

on  the  verge  of  more  hysteria  she  held  her  peace. 

Within  her  prescribed  circle  of  vision  Jenny  Wister  lived 
for  her  children,  loving  them  as  a  fanatic  does  his  god. 
Upon  them  she  had  lavished  her  all,  the  great  stores  of 
affection  that  would  have  been  bound  to  atrophy  had  they 
not  found  this  outlet.    Her  children  alone  glimpsed  the 


CONCERNING  CLAIRE  yi 

angel  in  her,  the  selfless,  anxious  and  intimate  watcher 
hidden  behind  a  barrier  of  reserve.  Outsiders  saw  only  the 
ambitious  woman,  focusing  upon  her  own  aggrandizement, 
noted  her  disregard  of  others,  her  social  cruelties,  admired 
and  feared  her  as  a  snob.  There  were  none  perhaps  in  that 
average  community  to  perceive  the  mere  mechanism  of  her 
pride.  She  was  the  uncomplaining  patrician,  duty  the  heavy 
crown  on  her  head,  and  tradition  the  sceptre  in  her  hand. 

When  her  children  came  into  the  world  delicately  fash- 
ioned, seeming  of  her  own  ancestral  fibre  rather  than 
Jonathan's,  her  lonely  heart  of  pain  gave  thanks.  "  They 
are  mine,  all  mine,"  she  had  thought  tenaciously.  "  I  shall 
live  in  and  for  them  and  each  shall  be  a  masterpiece." 
But,  with  the  inconsistency  of  woman,  she  had  plotted  for 
each  a  future  as  devoid  of  red  corpuscles  as  had  been  her 
own  past  life,  a  future  arranged  with  exquisite  orderliness, 
for  Mrs.  Wister  was  nothing  if  not  systematic.  Long  ago 
driven  to  frenzied  activity  by  her  spiritual  loneliness,  she 
had  developed  a  fetish  for  management.  Her  housekeeping 
was  admirable  and  the  very  luxuries  which  she  gave  her 
children  were  sagaciously  chosen,  always  the  fine  and 
valuable  things  that  would  last.  Her  miniature  face  with 
its  proud  perfection,  that  had  inspired  many  a  sonnet  when 
sonnets  were  in  vogue,  was  now  delicately  despoiled.  One 
cannot  assume  responsibility  for  so  large  an  order  as  desti- 
nies and  so  minute  a  one  as  collar  buttons  without  physical 
cost. 

No  sooner  was  Agnes  safely  accounted  for  than  there 
had  arisen  the  problem  of  Joan.  After  the  episode  of  Lily 
Gray  and  Joan's  expulsion  from  school  Mrs.  Wister  had 
been  greatly  troubled  and  felt  that  steps  should  be  taken  to 
get  to  the  source  of  the  trouble,  and  have,  so  to  speak,  the 
child's  originality  removed.  To  her  mind  had  appeared  the 
chimera  of  a  certain  great  aunt,  admittedly  odd  throughout 


72  BLIND  WISDOM 

her  life,  and  who,  as  a  culminating  bit  of  eccentricity  had 
placed  her  grandchild  in  a  dripping  pan,  sprinkled  it  with 
cloves  and  rosemary,  and  was  about  to  slide  it  into  the  oven 
when  a  timely  interruption  occurred.  She  decided  in  a 
flutter  of  apprehension  that  she  would  take  Joan  to  some 
great  doctor  specializing  in,  not  insanity  exactly,  but — dis- 
orders-of-the-nerves. 

But,  once  in  the  sanctum  of  the  great  physician,  she 
found  it  awkward  to  propound  her  fears,  and  Joan,  in  a 
perfect  delight  at  the  appurtenances  of  the  office,  gave  no 
symptoms  of  mental  deficiency.  Rather  she  smiled  back 
winningly  at  the  doctor's  questions,  and  his  eyes  lost  their 
professional  glaze  for  a  human  twinkle.  However,  he 
thrust  a  needle  through  her  ear,  went  through  the  test  of  the 
patella  and  other  reflexes,  examined  her  eyes,  and,  smiling 
oddly  to  himself,  asked  her  all  sorts  of  questions  with  a 
view  to  discovering  if  she  held  any  delusions.  She  answered 
them  quickly  and  clearly,  and  when  they  rose  to  go  she  said 
in  an  apologetic  fashion, 

"  Thank  you,  Doctor,  for  trying  to  find  out,  but  I'm  afraid 
there's  nothing  the  matter  with  me." 

The  doctor's  face  slipped  from  his  control,  but  when  he 
had  adjusted  his  professional  gravity  he  tactfully  delayed 
her  mother. 

"  I  think  I  understand  the  cause  of  your  uneasiness.  It 
is  because  your  daughter  is  so  exceptionally  normal  that  she 
is  in  a  rather  limited  class.  Most  of  us  are  not,  you  know, 
and  when  we  come  across  one  who  is  we  are  immediately 
aware  of  the  anomaly.  Yes,  twenty-five.  Thanks.  Good- 
afternoon." 

Ten  months  had  intervened,  but  it  seemed  that  hardly  had 
Mrs.  Wister  tasted  relief  on  that  score  when  she  was  called 
upon  to  wrestle  with  the  problem  of  Claire,  a  most  subtle 
and  difficult  one.    Claire  had  matured  over  night,  as  it  were. 


CONCERNING  CLAIRE  73 

had  sprung-  quivering  into  womanhood.  Claire  was  vital, 
she  possessed  a  will  and  a  way,  such  exuberance  of  health 
and  spirits  as  would  have  been  considered  scarcely  nice  in 
the  mid- Victorian  era.  Jenny  Wister  had  sometimes 
thought  (though  she  brushed  the  cobweb  from  her)  that 
Claire  was  a  throw-back  to  the  hardy  Wisters  of  the  west. 
She  had  even  imagined,  a  yet  more  repellent  suspicion,  that 
if  thrown  upon  her  own  resources  Claire  might  make  a 
vulgarly  successful  living.  And  if  such  were  the  truth,  to 
what  avail  had  been  her  years  of  careful  nurturing? 

At  this  stage  of  family  history  Claire  had  developed  a 
taste  for  spectacular  clothes  and  an  alarming  appetite  for 
fiction  and  bon-bons.  True,  these  indoor  tendencies  were 
balanced  by  her  outdoor  ones ;  she  was  a  hard  rider  and  a 
good  walker,  but  her  mother  felt  that  there  is  moderation 
ill  all  things,  and  that  Claire,  in  the  phrase  of  Crannsford, 
"  was  getting  on  too  fast."  When  she  walked  abroad  in  her 
brilliant,  modish  attire,  followed  by  a  sinuous  Great  Dane, 
heads  were  turned  to  gaze  after  her.  It  was  known  that  in 
Jenny  Wister's  family  conventional  conduct  was  as  instinc- 
tive as  good  manners,  but  the  fact  could  not  militate  against 
the  feeling  that  Claire  was  too  exotic  for  a  climate  where 
cold  prevails  eight  months  of  the  year. 

From  the  first  she  was  "  a  man's  woman "  and  a  belle 
wherever  she  went.  She  liked  her  young  men  tailor-made, 
with  square,  resolute  chins  and  characters  to  match.  Her 
suitors  were  so  numerous  they  wore  a  track  into  the  lesser 
drawing-room,  termed  by  Joan  "  the  beau  room "  since 
Claire  had  claimed  it  as  her  salon.  Quarts,  nay,  gallons  of 
cold  refreshment  in  summer  and  warm  refreshment  in 
winter  were  consumed  by  these  tireless  Lotharios,  and 
legion  were  the  cigarette  stubs  cleared  away  by  the  protest- 
ing Ellen  after  a  siege  of  suitors  had  convened.  There  was 
always  the  drumming  of  popular  airs  on  the  piano,  the 


74  BLIND  WISDOM 

tinkle  of  a  mandolin  and  the  incessant  accompaniment  of 
laughter,  for  rarely  did  they  come  singly.  Claire,  for  all  her 
coquetry,  permitted  no  monopolies. 

Joan,  still  boyishly  spare  and  unawakened,  was  diverted 
by  the  spectacle  of  Claire  entertaining.  There  was.  an  un- 
written law  in  Crannsford  that  the  oldest  unmarried  girl  in 
the  family  should  enjoy  full  sway  while  her  lilac-time  lasted; 
and  thus  it  sometimes  happened  that  the  next  in  line  was 
obliged  to  stretch  her  youth  indefinitely.  But  Joan  suffered 
no  sense  of  deprivation;  she  lived  keenly  each  innocent 
phase  of  life  as  it  was  offered  her,  from  dancing  class  to 
parties  where  she  boxed  with  gusto  the  ears  of  the  youth 
who  tried  to  kiss  her  playing  "  post-office." 

Meanwhile  the  weeks  came  and  went  and  Claire  was  no 
nearer  a  choice.  She  talked  prophetically  to  Joan  of  one 
who  would  come  from  the  unknown  to  claim  her,  his  cre- 
dentials in  his  eyes,  and  in  each  word  he  spoke  the  high  mark 
of  identification.  She  babbled  as  do  all  girls  of  twenty, 
nourished  on  romance,  but  with  the  difference  that  deep  in 
her  heart  lay  a  real  and  uncorrupted  faith. 

Mrs,  Wister,  dismayed  by  such  undercurrents  in  Claire 
and  her  lack  of  progress  in  selecting  a  suitable  mate,  decided 
to  entertain.  When  in  doubt  she  always  gave  a  tea.  It 
showed  at  least  that  her  head  was  above  water  and  she  was 
clothed  in  her  right  mind.  There  is  nothing  in  the  world  so 
indicative  of  a  deliberate  mood.  Joan  was  still  a  sub- 
debutante,  a  minor  quantity,  but  she  had  reached  that  posi- 
tion of  "  almost "  when  it  was  conceded  in  Crannsford  she 
might  be  admitted  to  the  background  of  the  occasion.  For 
some  time  she  had  been  slyly  coiling  her  hair  on  her  head, 
but  that  day  it  was  carefully  brushed  in  long  curling  tendrils 
down  her  back  and  tied  with  butterfly  bows.  She  was  attired 
in  a  rather  short  and  entirely  ingenuous  white  frock  and 
admonished  not  to  put  herself  forward.    But  the  warning 


CONCERNING  CLAIRE  75 

was  unnecessary — ^Joan  was  never  forward,  neither  was  she 
retiring,  but  quite  simply  herself  and  altogether  natural. 

Claire  was  resplendent,  but  with  the  restless  eye,  and  the 
passionate  indifference  of  one  who  has  been  put  through 
her  paces  too  often.  She  wore  a  pale  mauve  gown,  with  a 
crushed  girdle  of  mauve  and  blue,  and  the  orchids  of  her 
corsage  bouquet  supplied  the  word  between  the  two  tones. 
Her  hair  seemed  unusually  auburn,  and  each  clear  cut 
feature  accentuated  in  a  proud  sadness.  No  doubt  she  felt 
that  day  the  first  trace  of  weariness — she  who  had  waited 
for  her  prince  so  long! 

Joan  had  lucklessly  won  the  favor  of  a  red-haired  pro- 
fessor of  scales  and  freckles,  known  among  his  pupils  as 
"  Botany  Bill,"  and  this  gentleman  was  explaining  to  her 
once  and  for  all  the  difference  between  a  huckleberry  and  a 
blueberry  when  the  general  wave  of  excitement  touched 
them. 

"  That  young  man  standing  with  Sadie  Cornwall  is  an 
actor,"  vouchsafed  a  voice  near  by.  "  He's  her  nephew. 
Isn't  he  handsome?"  Immediately  Joan's  attention  was 
distracted  and  huckleberries  were  relegated  to  the  limbo  of 
things  forgotten.  The  stranger  had  become  the  cynosure  of 
eyes,  unconsciously  providing  the  spark  which  lit  the  whole 
occasion.  Thereafter  they  wooed  him  near  to  and  from 
afar ;  the  conversation  took  on  histrionic  flavor.  Wits  were 
sharpened  anc^  intellects  pruned ;  it  became  tacitly  a  point  of 
pride  that  he  should  find  Crannsford  au  courant  with  the 
best  thought  of  the  day  concerning  the  drama.  Middle- 
aged  women  with  beautiful,  austere  faces  asked  him  such 
questions  as,  "  Have  moving  pictures  overshadowed  the 
stage  ?  "  and  "  What  is  your  attitude  toward  Mr.  Belasco's 
realism  ?  " 

He  was  a  comely  giant  of  unquestionable  attraction,  but 
he  was  really  much  younger  and  more  innocent  than  he 


76  BLIND  WISDOM 

appeared.  Now  and  then  his  obstreperous  youth  would  get 
under  foot  and  trip  him  up.  He  had  constantly  to  be  on 
guard  against  it.  And  while  he  was  besieged  by  the  flutter- 
ing women  and  toying  rather  helplessly  with  a  teacup  and 
a  sandwich  Claire  held  her  distance.  She  made  conversa- 
tion with  a  suavity  remarkable  considering  it  was  purely 
mechanical,  and  her  greenish-gold  eyes,  set  in  a  pale  face, 
never  wavered  from  the  eyes  of  the  young  actor.  There 
was  nothing  bold  in  that  gaze ;  it  was  as  limpid  as  water,  as 
clear  and  direct  as  dawn.  And  from  his  attitude  it  was 
apparent  that  the  attraction  was  mutual.  He  too  talked 
with  more  or  less  intelligence,  and  dutifully  ate  the  little 
jig^sawed  sandwiches  which  he  seemed  to  find  ever  beneath 
his  eyes. 

Then,  without  perceptible  consciousness,  he  drifted  to- 
ward her,  for  they  had,  of  course,  met  at  the  time  of  his 
entry  into  the  house.  He  spoke  to  Claire  with  exaggerated 
formality,  and  she  answered  as  stiffly  and  concisely,  but  the 
most  commonplace  of  their  remarks  was  freighted  with 
significance,  until,  no  one  knew  quite  how,  they  had  drifted 
from  the  room  into  a  little  glass-enclosed  conservatory  where 
Mrs.  Wister  kept  her  plants  in  winter.  Here  were  a  couple 
of  fat  canaries  and  some  geraniums  in  bloom,  slim  sug- 
gestions of  Spring,  yet  sufficient  to  set  them  vibrating.  And 
all  the  time  there  was  the  feeling  that  Fate  had  lightly  taken 
them  up  and  would  drop  them  as  lightly  if  they  did  not 
hurry.  Words  crowded  to  be  spoken.  She  learned  that 
his  name  was  Ridgely  Rutherford,  and  he  that  hers  was 
Claire  Wister. 

"  Claire,"  he  mused,  touching  the  name  with  a  thrilling 
but  respectful  intimacy,  "  that's  like  you,  vivid  and  clear." 
And  Claire,  looking  more  beautiful  and  spiritual  than  she 
had  ever  looked  in  her  life,  took  up  the  name  "  Ridgely.'* 
"  How  strong  it  sotmds.    Is  it  your  very  own?  " 


CONCERNING  CLAIRE  77 

The  next  thing  they  knew  the  guests  were  leaving,  and 
Mrs.  VVister  was  recalling  her  to  her  duties  as  hostess. 
Later,  in  an  aftermath  of  general  discussion,  Joan  disclosed 
some  fell  information. 

"  Mrs.  Cornwall  was  telling  me  that  her  nephew,  the 
actor,  has  a  leading  part  in  a  new  play  they're  taking  on 
tour.  He's  leaving  to-night,  and  she  says  she  doesn't  expect 
to  see  him  again  for  ages." 

Whereupon  Claire  said  a  strange  and  irrelevant  thing: 
she  said  that  she  did  not  think  she  would  ever  marry. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
INCONVENIENT  ORIGINALITY 

Contrary  to  fond  expectation,  Agnes'  baby  came  into  the 
world  a  girl.  At  the  news  Mr.  Wister,  who  had  derived 
pleasure  from  the  hope  of  a  lusty  grandson,  a  potential 
founder  of  freight  lines,  ensconced  himself  behind  his  wall 
of  disappointment  and  for  a  week  remained  unapproachable. 
Mrs.  Wister  and  Claire  were  inclined  to  think  a  little  girl  a 
dainty  adjunct  to  the  family,  but  Joan  agreed  with  her 
father. 

"  She'll  be  a  consumer,  not  a  producer,  and  she  can  never 
go  adventuring,"  she  regretted  the  limitations  of  the  small 
life,  and  her  father,  for  once,  finding  the  thing  adequately 
said,  nodded  like  a  Mandarin. 

Nevertheless,  Joan  was  wild  to  see  the  baby.  She  rum- 
maged among  trunks  for  relics  of  her  own  babyhood  and 
held  the  little  garments  in  her  hands  and  kissed  the  tiny 
shoes,  feeling  them  to  be  not  her  own  nor  any  other  child's 
exclusively,  but  the  symbol  of  all  infancy. 

"  I  shall  marry  a  man  who  loves  *em,"  she  wrote  naively 
to  Jerry,  "  and  I  shall  ask  him  beforehand  to  let  me  have 
eleven  or  twelve." 

And  it  is  hardly  to  be  doubted  that  Jerry's  mirth  welled 
over. 

"  I  have  seen  her,"  he  wrote  back  in  his  usual  whimsical 
fashion,  "  the  heiress  of  the  house  of  Blunt !  She  enjoys 
ten  fingers  and  toes,  each  with  the  usual  equipment  of  nails, 
and  has  a  high  pink  forehead  that  only  ends  at  the  base  of 


INCONVENIENT  ORIGINALITY  79 

her  neck.  And  her  air  of  casual  boredom  would  seem  to 
indicate  that  she  is  as  wise  as  the  ages  while  it  is  we  who 
are  floundering  in  pursuit  of  our  wits." 

Although  perhaps  neither  of  them  understood  what  was 
happening  at  that  period,  it  was  Jerry  Callendar  who  molded 
the  plastic  clay  of  Joan's  life.  All  his  teachings  were  tacit, 
and  if  they  were  far  from  being  priggish  they  were  equally 
far  from  being  precarious.  His  biggest  text  was  from 
Kipling, — "Walk  with  crowds  and  keep  your  virtue,  and 
walk  with  kings  nor  lose  the  common  touch  .  .  ."  and  next 
to  that,  Walt  Whitman's,  "  Rest  not  till  you  rivet  and  pub- 
lish yourself  of  your  own  personality.  .  .  ."  And  of 
these  two  precepts,  if  no  others,  he  practised  as  well  as 
preached.  With  all  his  fineness  none  could  accuse  Jerry  of 
lacking  "  the  common  touch."  He  despised  charity  in  the 
accepted  sense,  "  soothing-sirup  to  the  poor,"  but  he  was 
always  getting  at  the  root  of  some  evil  and  pulling  it  out. 
Rubbing  elbows  with  humanity  as  he  did  in  his  profession, 
he  had  gained  an  insight  into  motives  that,  with  his  natural 
tolerance  and  love  of  people,  formed  a  combination  danger- 
ous in  a  lawyer  whose  shell  should  be  hard. 

"  Look  deep  into  character,"  he  would  tell  his  young 
protegee,  "  see  the  soul  before  you  see  the  outer  trappings, 
and  never  condemn  one  for  a  lack  of  taste.  It  sets  the 
teeth  on  edge,  I  know,  but  we  can't  all  cultivate  the  aesthetic 
sense." 

Hardly  a  week  passed  that  he  did  not  send  her  something, 
if  only  a  sentence  to  stimulate  thought,  and  Joan's  family 
took  little  heed  of  the  friendship,  dismissing  him  as  "  harm- 
less." Joan  gave  color  to  Jerry's  lonely  life,  and  her  affec- 
tion for  him  was  frank  and  free.  Gradually  his  propa- 
ganda of  truth  and  fearlessness  was  being  crystallized  in  her 
to  definite  opinion  and  utterance,  the  rare  garden  that  Jerry 
had  anticipated  was  beginning  to  flower.     She  became  im- 


8o  BLIND  WISDOM 

mensely  analytical;  the  accepted  word  about  anything  was 
not  good  enough  for  her.  And  yet  she  went  her  ordered 
ways  with  only  an  occasional  revealment. 

"  I  wonder  why  we  never  got  acquainted  with  Father," 
was  the  high  explosive  she  dropped  casually  at  the  feet  of 
her  mother  and  Claire,  and  then  perceived  that  she  had 
unsealed  a  sore  spot  in  their  lives  and  questioned  the  kind- 
ness of  keeping  it  sore  when  with  a  little  courage  it  might 
be  made  to  heal  openly.  She  deplored  with  Jerry  the  con- 
spiracy for  making  life  obscure. 

And  again  she  electrified  them  by  the  calm  declaration 
that  she  would  never  emerge  socially  in  Crannsford  or  any 
other  place. 

*'  To  be  advertised  as  marriageable.  I'd  die  of  mortifica- 
tion. And  after  a  few  seasons  of  being  appraised  and 
handled,  then  to  be  seen  still  walking  the  world  like  a  corpse 
that  can't  get  itself  buried,  till,  in  sheer  shame,  any  young 
man  with  no  chin  will  do  and  then — oh,  worst  of  all,  a  lot 
of  children  with  no  chins.'* 

"  I  can't  imagine,"  groaned  Mrs.  Wister,  "  who  puts  such 
ideas  in  your  head,  unless  it's  Jerry.  I  shall  certainly  look 
into  it,"  whereupon  Joan  naughtily  misconstrued  her  mean- 
ing with,  "  Oh,  but  you  can't  look  into  my  head.  That's  the 
lovely  part  of  heads,  they  have  no  doors  nor  windows." 

But  for  all  her  advancement  she  could  not  escape  the 
usual  curriculum  of  young  life.  She  did  the  obvious  things 
that  girls  of  her  age  were  doing,  with  the  difference  that  she 
saw  the  action  from  all  sides.  The  missionary  spirit  flour- 
ished in  Crannsford  and  Crannsford  was  in  personal  touch 
with  China,  for  had  she  not  given  some  dozen  of  her  sons 
and  daughters  to  the  enlightenment  of  the  yellow  race? 
Each  week  the  young  girls,  under  the  tutelage  of  older  and 
wiser  spirits,  met  to  sew  for  the  small  Manchurians,  and 
Joan  was  a  regular  attendant,  pricking  her  fingers  with  the 


'INCONVENIENT  ORIGINALITY  8l 

best  of  them.  She  had  learned  to  goad  red  and  white 
checked  gingham  into  garments  of  uncompromising  cut  and 
to  adorn  them  with  china  buttons  the  size  of  a  man's  watch. 
And  one  day  she  conceived  a  hatred  of  red  and  white 
gingham  that  swept  over  her  Hke  a  tidal  wave.  Suddenly 
she  was  on  her  feet  in  the  littered  circle,  her  head  thrown 
back  and  a  mysticism  upon  her  that  precluded  fear. 

"  Why,"  she  demanded  rather  oratorically,  "  just  because 
they're  '  pagans  suckled  in  a  creed  outworn,'  should  they  be 
made  to  wear  these?  There's  nothing  in  the  Bible  that 
makes  red  gingham  seem  an  emblem  of  Christianity,  and  yet 
we  keep  on  foisting  the  same  thing  upon  them."  And, 
sensing  their  antagonism,  she  laughed  hysterically,  knowing 
herself  lost  and  not  caring.  She  jerked  aloft  the  unpropi- 
tious  garment.  "  Let's  give  them  pretty  things  or  nothing  at 
all.  Look  at  this.  It  inspires  only  loathing.  I  hate  to 
think  how  I'd  feel  in  my  soul  if  I  had  to  wear  it." 

Whereupon  she  dropped  limply  and,  to  use  Claire's  ex- 
pression, "  stayed  down."  But  her  protest  was  fluid  and 
everywhere  it  spread  it  was  condemned.  And  by  nightfall 
a  deputation  waited  upon  her  mother. 

"  I  don't  wish  to  hurt  your  feelings,"  was  the  final  com- 
ment, and  no  one  had  ever  before  dared  so  much  with  the 
haughty  Mrs.  Wister,  "but  I'm  afraid  your  daughter  is 
going  to  have — ideas." 

"  Ideas  ?  Oh,  no,  no,"  cried  the  wounded  mother,  "  I  will 
talk  with  Joan.    Ideas  ?    Oh,  never !  " 

This  was  unfortunately  during  the  period  when  Joan  was 
most  closely  allied  with  the  church,  pending  confirmation. 
Again,  "  all  the  girls  were  doing  it."  But  Joan  sincerely 
loved  the  church  proper.  She  delighted  in  the  mellowed 
walls  with  their  chaste  proportions  and  the  great  windows 
of  stained  glass.  Saint  Peter,  trailing  cerulean  robes,  was 
the  friend  of  her  childhood,  and  the  Mary  Mother  eloquent 


82  BLIND  WISDOM 

of  sympathy  when  the  sermons  were  long.  But  most  of  all 
she  loved  the  gentle  Jesus,  walking  with  simplicity  beneath 
the  silvery  gray  olive  trees,  and  carrying  a  lamb  in  His 
arms.  Even  as  a  child  her  eyes  would  film  with  tears  at 
the  thought  of  His  unconscious  serenity  beneath  the  shadow 
of  crucifixion.  The  passionate  urge  would  come  upon  her 
to  atone  to  Him  for  that  ancient  crime. 

Now  her  affection  embraced  the  subtler  appurtenances, 
the  altar  with  its  embroidered  cloth,  the  slim  gold  candle- 
sticks with  their  aspiring  flames,  and  the  full  volume  of 
sound  that  stole  from  the  organ. 

But  confirmation  was  a  keen-edged  reality  and  involved 
more  "  truth  and  fearlessness."  The  holy  example  of  the 
Master  was  tangible,  but  the  conception  of  a  Trinity  eluded 
her,  nor  was  she  able  to  embrace  in  its  entirety  either  the 
Old  Testament  or  the  New.  She  did  not  know  that  her 
need  went  direct  as  an  arrow  to  the  essentials  of  faith,  dis- 
carding the  outworn  creeds  and  dogmas.  Because  she  could 
not  accept  the  whole  in  the  same  untroubled  manner  of  her 
friends,  she  had  grave  doubts  of  her  orthodoxy.  In  joining 
the  church  one  did  not  link  oneself  to  the  Saviour  alone ;  one 
wedded  obscurer  tenets,  one  took  them  for  better  or  for 
worse  and  for  all  time. 

As  the  day  approached,  in  a  blue  funk  she  visited  her 
rector,  an  humbler  clergyman  than  Mr.  Blunt,  but  hardly 
more  explicit. 

"  I  appreciate  your  scruples,"  he  told  her  indulgently, 
"  but  I  deprecate  your  fears.  It  is  not  necessary  to  be 
perfect  in  your  heart  nor  letter-perfect  in  your  faith  of 
Biblical  things  before  joining  the  church.  That  will  all 
come  to  you  later." 

"Later,"  she  gasped.  "How  can  I  be  sure?"  and  left 
him  in  no  way  comforted. 

Through  the  homey  streets  of  Crannsford  she  wandered. 


INCONVENIENT  ORIGINALITY  83 

a  miserable  derelict,  her  hat  pulled  low  over  her  little  olive- 
tinted  face,  her  eyes  awake  and  burning  like  live  coals. 
Jerry  was  too  far  away  to  be  consulted  and  there  remained 
only  Lishaby,  and  hopelessly,  mechanically,  she  turned  to- 
ward that  champion  of  childish  days.  It  was  Indian  Sum- 
mer, but  all  the  glory  now  dulled  in  a  downpour.  The  sky 
thickly  overlaid  by  violet-colored  clouds  sent  down  its 
oblique  lines  of  rain  to  blur  heaven  and  earth  together,  like 
the  crayon  strokes  of  a  pastel.  As  Joan  climbed  the  hill 
she  was  in  both  mental  and  physical  disorder,  and  there  was 
something  bird-like  in  her  ruffled  plumage,  her  little  tilted 
head  turned  from  the  rain.  She  had  the  woebegone  counte- 
nance of  all  wild  things  that  resent  the  wind  and  drenching. 

Lishaby  was  quilting,  but  she  threw  her  pieces  on  the 
floor  and  welcomed  the  wayfarer. 

"  Land  0'  Goshun,  ain't  you  soppin '  ?  You  take  straight 
off  them  wet  things  an'  set  to  the  fire,  whilst  I  make  you 
some  camphor  tea.    My  ol'  man's  gone  to  the  cider  mill." 

Joan,  having  obeyed  and  huddled  to  the  open  oven  in  just 
her  camisole  and  petticoat,  smiled  a  wan  smile. 

"Is  that  quilt  for  my  wedding,  Lishaby?  I  wish  you 
weren't  so  previous  with  it !  It  gives  me  a  hurried  feeling 
like  the  hunting  scenes  in  our  dining-room.  What  kind 
is  it?" 

"  Where's  your  eyes  ? "  Lishaby  countered  good-na- 
turedly. "  It's  a  risin'  sun  quilt,  o'  course.  I  figgered  it  was 
appropriate,  'cuz  it  alius  seems  dark  till  you  come  roun'." 
She  chuckled  at  her  own  witticism.  "  Now  for  Agnes  I 
made  a  Maltese  cross,  count  o'  her  being  so  pious,  an'  Claire 
nigh  onto  stumped  me  till  I  hit  on  a  crazy-work.  Claire's 
like  that,  all  over  the  place  an'  lots  o'  color.  What's  on 
your  mind  ?  " 

"  Worrlments,"  frowned  Joan  promptly.  **  Lishaby,  I'm 
going  to  be  confirmed  to-morrow,  and  I've  taken  out  all 


84  BLIND  WISDOM 

my  religion  and  looked  it  over,  and  I  don't  believe  there's 
enough." 

"  Enough  ?  "  Lishaby  drew  sociably  nearer  with  her  scraps 
of  calico  lying  kaleidoscopic  about  her.  "  What  ain't  you 
got  to  match  up  your  pattern  ?  " 

When  she  worked  it  was  her  custom  to  wear  a  pair  of 
store  spectacles.  These  she  adjusted  on  her  shapeless  nose 
just  below  her  eyes,  and  peered  above  them  with  ludicrous 
effect. 

"  On  every  scrap  of  religion  I  have,"  returned  Joan  in  the 
same  spirit,  "  the  edges  are  nipped  off.  When  I  come  to 
put  it  all  together,  you  can  imagine  how  it  looks." 

"Uh-huh,"  agreed  the  old  woman  shrewdly.  "It  don't 
mitre  at  the  joinings.    Well  ?  " 

"  Lishaby,"  went  on  Joan  unheeding,  "  can  you  imagine  a 
great  Almighty  who  made  the  world  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  gis  I  ken.  Most  everybody's  got  some  idee.  As 
I've  pictured  Him  so  many  times.  He's  jest  as  familiar  to  me 
as  the  fambly  photos  in  my  album.  He's  big,  I  take  it,  with 
a  fan-shaped  beard,  an'  His  coat's  as  elegant  as  an  under- 
taker's.   An'  don't  no  one  take  liberties  with  Him." 

Joan's  little  stockinged  feet  went  dancing  up  and  down  in 
the  open  oven  when  she  perceived  that  Lishaby's  intention 
was  not  to  be  facetious. 

"  The  Son,"  she  continued  in  mellow  gravity,  "  is  like  His 
paintin's,  handsome  an*  sweet-natured,  an*  favors  His 
mother.  He's  all  the  time  pleadin'  with  His  Father  to  be 
easy  on  sinners.     I'd  take  my  chances  with  Him  any  time." 

Joan  nodded  brightly,  for  she  thought  this  a  human 
enough  characterization.  Outside  the  rain  blew  against  the 
panes  in  feeble,  sobbing  articulations  and  within  Lishaby's 
needle  clicked  in  and  out  complacently. 

"  But,  Lishaby,"  ventured  Joan  carefully,  covertly  watch- 
ing her  the  while,  "  surely  you  know  the  Almighty  wasn't 


INCONVENIENT  ORIGINALITY  85 

the  earthly  parent  of  Jesus.  The  Ahnighty  isn't  an  old 
gentleman  in  a  frock  coat.  He's  space  and  power;  He's 
everywhere  at  once.  It's  only  now  the  Son  is  ascended  into 
Heaven  that  He  sits  on  the  right  hand  of  God." 

Lishaby  started  up  in  agitation  and  put  coal  on  the  fire 
with  unnecessary  violence. 

"  Sense  is  sense,"  she  declared  stoutly.  "  You  ask  me  to 
picture  God  an*  then  you  tell  me  He  ain't  anything  a  body 
kin  picture,  an'  if  so  be  that's  gospel  true,  I  don't  want 
Him — keep  Him,  sez  I.  My  own's  good  enough  fer  me. 
I'm  nigh  onto  sixty-five  year  old  an'  I  cain't  change." 

"  Oh,  but  Lishaby,"  protested  Joan  and  could  get  no 
further. 

It  was  unthinkable  that  Lishaby  should  have  lived  her 
life  with  such  a  slap-stick  conception  of  the  Ruling  Power. 
While  Crannsford  had  been  sending  missionaries  to  China 
it  had  overlooked  Lishaby  and  yet  all  her  life  the  old  woman 
had  lived  with  a  greatness  of  heart,  and  was  conscious  of  no 
spiritual  lack.  Joan  kissed  her  very  tenderly  at  parting;  it 
seemed  to  her  for  the  time  that  she,  Joan,  was  the  elder. 

L^pon  reaching  home  she  shut  herself  in  her  room  and  for 
the  first  time  in  her  life  expressed  herself  in  verse. 

"  I  used  to  think  when  I  was  small 
God  was  an  old  man,  fearsome-tall, 
With  pious  air,  aloof  and  calm, 
And  ten  commandments  under  his  arm. 

He  lived  in  a  house  with  a  silver  dome, 
And  Sunday  was  his  day  at  home. 

But  I've  discovered  to  my  joy 
That  God's  a  laughter-loving  boy 
Like  other  lads  till  you  surprise 
The  ten  commandments  in  his  eyes. 
And  nearly  ev'ry  day  we  meet 
In  Broadway  or  in  Market  Street!  ** 


86  BLIND  WISDOM 

Having  relieved  herself  of  which  effusion,  she  presently 
retired  but  not  to  sleep  the  sleep  of  the  just.  For  hours  she 
tossed,  ruthlessly  cross-examining  herself,  and  it  was  not 
until  dawn  was  in  the  sky  that  she  fell  into  a  fitful  slumber. 
Even  then  there  was  slight  rest,  for  the  sun  followed,  a 
searchlight  for  sinners,  and  the  day  was  there  with  which  to 
be  reckoned.  Across  a  chair  lay  the  white  confirmation 
dress  that  had  made  her  feel  so  bridal  at  fittings.  She  put 
it  away  renunciatingly.  Then  she  dressed  in  old  clothes  and 
slipped  out  of  the  house  before  the  others  should  waken. 
Her  decision  was  made. 


CHAPTER  IX 
BUND  WISDOM 

It  was  mid-afternoon  when  Jerry  Callendar  came  out 
from  town  as  was  his  custom.  Save  for  these  excursions 
he  agreed  with  Mark  Twain  that  the  "  rest  of  the  week  was 
invented  to  rest  up  from  the  weariness  of  Sunday."  Mrs. 
Wister  met  him  at  the  door  with  an  agitated  face  and  the 
news  of  Joan's  shocking  recantation.  No  one  knew  where 
she  had  been  all  day,  and  so  bitter  was  sentiment  against 
her  that  no  one  seemed  greatly  to  care.  Having  unburdened 
herself,  she  gave  Jerry  the  sudden,  searching  scrutiny  of 
one  who  suspects  duplicity,  but  Jerry  returned  that  look 
openly,  for  he  had  never  tampered  with  Joan's  religion,  and 
her  decision  was  in  no  way  upon  his  soul.  He  would  have 
staked  his  life  that  once  more  her  conscience  was  function- 
ing, and  he  was  secretly  exhilarated  by  her  bravery,  but  he 
could  not  intimate  that  to  her  mother.  The  two  spoke 
different  languages ;  they  would  have  needed  an  interpreter 
to  be  together  five  minutes  and  discuss  the  weather. 

Fortunately  he  was  by  now  so  frequent  a  visitor  that 
neither  Mrs.  Wister  nor  Claire  felt  it  incumbent  upon  her  to 
entertain  him,  and  as  he  wandered  moodily  at  large,  he 
presently  found  himself  in  the  dry  leaves  of  the  garden  with 
his  face  toward  the  wood.  The  day  had  proven  one  of 
those  rarely  vivid  ones  that  Nature  puts  on  for  her  swan- 
song.  After  the  rain  of  yesterday  the  sky  was  an  inverted 
bowl  of  jade,  dazzling  with  inter-veils  of  blue.    The  hillside 


88  BLIND  WISDOM 

languished  in  precious  gold  and  copper  and  the  whole 
atmosphere  seemed  palpitant  with  radiations  of  light.  In 
and  out  across  the  uneven  slope  ran  the  amethyst  shadows 
of  the  trees  and  now  and  then  the  bright  thread  of  a  birch 
gleamed  upward  beneath  its  canopy  of  leaves. 

As  Jerry  climbed  he  reacted  to  the  poignance  of  such 
beauty.  And  somewhere  in  all  this  loveliness  Joan  was 
endeavoring  to  find  herself.  Her  plight  reminded  him  of 
Alice's  plaint  to  the  Red  Queen,  "  I've  lost  my  way,"  and 
the  Red  Queen's  retort,  "All  the  ways  about  here  are  mine." 

Lishaby  was  picking  marigolds  in  her  garden,  in  company 
with  a  lazy  swarm  of  bees,  and  he  paused  to  speak  to  her. 

"  Be  you  goin'  to  fetch  her?  "  she  cried  without  preamble. 
"  Laws,  Mister  Jerry,  she's  makin'  a  mountain  out  o'  a  mole- 
hill." 

"How  so,  Lishaby?" 

"  Takih'  on  so  'bout  the  church.  I  was  riz  a  good  Chris- 
tian, but  spite  o'  that  I  hold  they's  jest  two  kinds  o'  people  in 
this  worl*,  the  good  an'  the  bad.  Take  my  ol'  man,  Colum- 
bus. This  mornin'  sez  he  to  me,  *  Ma,  where  in  tunket's  my 
collar  button  ? '  An'  sez  I  to  him,  *  I  know  what  you  mean 
by  tunket,  Columbus,  an'  so  does  the  Lord.'  An'  sez  he,  '  I 
don't  care.  Ma,  I  ain't  no  professor  o'  religion.' "  She 
struck  an  eloquent  attitude.  "  There  you  hev  it !  Columbus 
is  mighty  tryin'  at  times,  an'  he's  slow  as  cold  molasses,  but, 
bless  my  stars.  Mister  Jerry,  there  ain't  no  better  man  in 
Courtland  County!" 

She  hounded  a  dormant  bee  from  a  flower,  broke  it 
smartly  at  the  stem  and  inserted  it  in  his  buttonhole. 

"Jest  f oiler  yer  nose,  an*  ye'll  come  to  her,  an*,  say,  young 
man,  if  so  be  ye  mean  business,  ye'd  better  be  up  to  snuff  or 
one  o'  these  days  some  young  buck  that's  sprier  than  you 
be'll  git  her  away  from  you.** 

"Joan  ?  **    Jerry,  who  had  long  ago  lost  the  habit  of  blush- 


BLIND  WISDOM  89 

ing,  was  red  as  a  schoolboy.  "  You  forget,  my  dear 
woman,  that  I  was  born  too  soon  for  her." 

"  Shucks,"  Lishaby  called  after  him  as  he  moved  away. 
"  No  man's  born  too  soon  for  any  woman,  or  if  he  is  he 
don't  know  enough  to  know  it."  And  in  a  softer  tone  to 
herself  she  added,  "  He  must  think  I'm  green  as  green  peas 
not  to  see  he  wouldn't  be  lalygagging  aroun'  after  her  with- 
out intentions  o'  one  kind  or  t'other." 

Immediately  in  the  woods  Jerry  regained  his  poise  in 
honest  amusement.  It  was  ridiculous  that  a  crudity  like 
Lishaby  should  make  him  blush.  Why,  Joan — little  Joan — 
was  but  a  child.  He  had  never  translated  their  friendship 
into  terms  of  sex ;  that  was  what  had  made  it  possible  and 
the  rather  delicious  thing  it  was.  Jerry  at  thirty  was  sick 
to  death  of  sex.  It  was  motivated  by  melodrama;  in  the 
lighter  play  its  cloying  sweetness  gave  one  mental  dyspepsia ; 
in  fiction  it  overshadowed  character  and  plot;  in  every-day 
life  the  men  about  him  made  a  fetish  of  pretty  women. 
"  Make  love  to  her  if  she  is  pretty,  and  to  some  one  else  if 
she  is  plain,"  ran  the  recipe  for  treatment  of  the  opposite 
sex. 

But  Jerry,  who  had  himself  been  singed  by  sentiment,  as 
most  young  men  are,  was  wary  of  the  fire ;  women  as  friends 
or  potential  sweethearts  had  always  managed  to  disappoint 
him.  They  took  such  care  to  be  outwardly  appealing  and 
so  little  to  make  their  minds  lovely,  and  he  would  have  no 
woman  whose  mind  was  not  his  holy  resting  place. 

Besides,  Jerry  was  unconsciously  all  things  to  all  people. 
And  to  Joan  it  had  pleased  him  to  appear  hors  de  combat. 
She  would  have  been  surprised  in  her  Jerry  could  she  have 
visualized  him  as  the  attractive  fellow  who  was  forever 
being  buttonholed  on  the  avenue  by  some  woman  with  an 
invitation  on  her  tongue. 

Riuninating  in  this  fashion  he  presently  came  upon  the 


90  BLIND  WISDOM 

object  of  his  search  in  a  clearing  of  the  wood.  This  clear- 
ing was  famous  as  a  rendezvous  for  lovers  and  was  pre- 
sided over  by  a  giant  tree  called  "  Morrow's  Oak,"  from 
the  days  when  Joan's  forebears  had  been  land-rich.  The 
trunk  was  knotted  and  gnarled  and  of  a  wonderful  fairy- 
like gray  to  match  its  lively  tenants,  the  squirrels.  The  long 
muscular  arms  of  it  were  corded  as  from  years  of  labor, 
and  writhed  far  out  above  the  grass.  It  was  such  a  setting 
as  Corot  would  have  adorned  with  dancing  nymphs.  One 
imagined  that  eerie  events  transpired  here  by  moonlight. 
At  the  base  of  the  patriarch  Joan  was  lounging  with  a  book, 
engagingly  disheveled  from  her  day's  vagabondage.  She 
wore  a  white  jersey  and  a  rough,  abbreviated  skirt,  and  her 
hair  was  at  that  stage  of  betwixt  and  between  when  it 
comes  down  easily. 

"  Jerry,"  she  cried,  and  in  that  cry  were  glad  intonations, 
for  she  already  felt  estranged  from  home  and  friends. 
Dropping  the  book,  she  came  running  across  the  uneven 
ground  and  flung  her  arms  about  his  neck.  "  How  happy 
I  am  to  see  you !  How  good  you  smell !  Oh,  Jerry !  "  It 
wasf  her  way  of  expressing  gratitude  and  never  had  she 
seemed  so  wistful.  Jerry  patted  her  shoulder  and  tried  to 
be  hearty  and  prosaic,  wondering  the  while  what  in  Heaven's 
name  had  come  over  him.  She  was  clasping  him  with  the 
loving  intensity  of  a  small  animal,  and  though,  as  he  told 
himself,  she  was  only  Joan  and  he  was  only  Jerry,  he  was 
finding  it  delicious  to  have  her  so — it  was  rather  too  de- 
licious, in  fact.     It  made  his  head  reel. 

"Ass !  *'  he  ejaculated  inwardly.  "  Idiot ! "  And  yet  all 
the  time  his  senses  were  more  than  usually  acute.  He  knew, 
for  instance,  in  some  esoteric  way,  that  there  was  a  differ- 
ence in  her,  the  first  delicate  rounding  of  womanhood,  a 
fragrance  to  her  hair. 

"  Who  are  you?  "  he  took  refuge  in  nonsense,  holding  her 


BLIND  WISDOM  91 

at  arm's  length  and  laughing  uncertainly.  "Are  you  the 
spirit  of  the  tree  and  do  you  live  on  acorns  ?  Let  me  see  if 
your  feet  are  hoofs."  Then,  becoming  immensely  labored 
and  dull,  "  You  must  be  tired  from  your  long  day  out  here." 

"  People  who  live  in  trees  are  never  tired,"  she  answered, 
frowning,  feeling  his  sagging  of  gusto  and  resenting  it,  "  and 
acorns  are  a  delicious  diet,  the  kind  Lishaby  cooks.  Aren't 
you  glad  to  see  me,  Jerry?  You  must  be  ever  so  glad,  be- 
cause I  need  you  so.  It's  been  a  wonderful  day,  of  course, 
but  a  rather  uncanny  one,  like  jumping  off  the  edge  of  the 
world  with  no  kindred  spf^rit.  Jerry,"  she  lowered  her  voice 
appealingly,  "  I'm  not  really  irreligious.  I've  been  wor- 
shipping all  by  myself  out  here." 

"Of  course,  dear,"  he  soothed. 

She  was  really  dawning  and  developing  in  an  amazing 
way, — strange  he  had  never  noticed  till  now;  her  lips,  her 
eyes,  each  feature  becoming  vital.  She  would  be  charming 
in  a  little  while,  not  in  the  obscure,  childish  way  she  had 
been,  but  in  a  way  that  any  one,  however  blind,  might  per- 
ceive. 

"  Of  course,"  he  repeated  absently. 

But  she  was  not  discouraged-  She  drew  him  down  to  the 
base  of  the  tree  as  to  a  divan,  and  put  her  hand  simply  in 
his  as  she  added : 

"The  woods  have  been  so  beautiful  I've  had  to  keep 
thanking  God  for  them,  and  I'm  sure  we're  never  so  close  to 
Him  as  when  we  do  that." 

And,  after  a  little  pause : 

"  I  believe  it  was  the  forms  and  ceremonies  of  church 
that  appealed  to  me — the  emotional  me.  But, — oh,  please, 
don't  laugh, — things  like  Mrs.  Charlie  Smith's  hat  kept 
getting  between  me  and  the  Lord.  I  realize  that  now,  and 
I  don't  want  anything  to  come  between  us.  To-day  noth- 
ing has.    Do  you  ever  feel  like  that,  Jerry?" 


92  BLIND  WISDOM 

He  confessed  that  he  had. 

"  Some  days,"  he  mused,  smiHng,  "  there's  so  much  God 
out  that  you  draw  Him  into  your  lungs  every  time  you  take 
a  breath;  you  find  Him  in  your  eyes  like  star-dust,  giving 
you  gifted  sight;  He  even  rushes  into  your  ears  and  you 
begin  to  hear  all  sorts  of  nice  things." 

This  was  the  way  she  liked  her  Jerry  to  talk,  always  in 
a  hinterland  of  the  unreal. 

But  when  they  rose  to  leave  among  the  long  shadows,  she 
reverted  to  the  eternal  problems  which  troubled  her. 

"  When  I  trust  myself  I  always  seem  to  get  punished, 
Jerry.  And  sometimes  I  wonder — is  it  safe  to  go  on  trust- 
ing myself  ?  " 

They  had  walked  many  minutes  before  he  found  an  an- 
swer to  that.  The  slant  sun  was  gilding  them  about  like 
immortals  and  the  leaves  still  sifting  down  airily  lay  under 
foot  in  vari-colored  mosaics.  Once  a  cloud  of  yellow 
butterflies,  ghosts  of  dead  summer,  brushed  them  in  passing, 
with  gossamer  wings.  Suddenly  Jerry  spoke  with  convic- 
tion, his  voice  warm  with  hidden  comfort.  Years  after- 
ward Joan  was  to  remember  him  so,  the  very  color  of  his 
tweed  suit,  his  face  grave,  yet  glowing  with  the  quality  of 
his  thought,  and  the  texture  of  his  dream  that  would  remain 
forever  glorious. 

"  We  search  and  we  search  for  God,"  said  Jerry.  "  We 
make  a  great  ado  over  what  is  really  very  simple.  For, 
while  we're  rushing  about  in  confusion  He's  waiting 
patiently  in  our  hearts,  hoping  we'll  discover  Him  there, 
hoping  we'll  listen.  .  .  .  And  I'm  going  to  tell  you  what 
I  believe,  the  sum  and  substance  of  it  all, — God  is  our 
natural  instinct  for  good.  Normally,  instinct  is  bigger  than 
reason.  Unfortunately  through  civilization  we  have  become 
estranged  from  instinct;  we  haven't  developed  it.  We've 
allowed  it  to  remain  idle  like  an  imused  limb  till,  in  some 


BLIND  WISDOM  93 

cases,  it  almost  refuses  to  function.  But  if  we  were  to 
cultivate  the  habit  of  relying  upon  it  it  would  regain  its 
power,  it  would  simplify  and  perfect  our  lives.  It's  sub- 
lime, this  blind  wisdom  of  each  of  us.  Do  you  know,"  he 
lowered  his  voice  in  awe,  "  that  when  the  ice  breaks  in  the 
north  of  England  the  birds  leave  South  Africa?  Reason 
doesn't  tell  them  it's  time  to  go.  And  when  a  certain  variety 
of  female  moth  bursts  its  cocoon,  even  if  it's  within  a  house, 
immediately  the  male  moths  of  the  same  species  begin  com- 
ing? Does  the  brain  dictate  that  move?  No,  it's  God  in 
the  wild  thing's  heart.  And  that's  why,"  he  added  com- 
fortably, "  the  nearer  we  live  to  nature  the  wiser  and  cleaner 
we  become ! " 

She  lifted  a  face  of  sudden  rapture. 

"Oh,  Jerry,  why  have  you  never  told  me  that  before? 
It's  simply  all  I  need.    You — ^you've  given  me  a  religion ! " 

Ellen,  the  housemaid  at  the  Wisters*,  was  a  barometer  to 
register  the  mental  atmosphere  of  the  family.  And  to  Delia, 
the  cook,  she  presaged  stormy  weather  on  that  particular 
Sunday. 

"They  say  there's  no  tellin'  where  she'll  end.  She's  a 
reg'lar  infidel,  Miss  Joan  is,"  said  Ellen,  and  added  virtu- 
ously, "  Sure,  I'd  rather  be  a  pore  honest  girl,  meself,  an' 
go' to  church  proper." 

But  Delia,  who  nursed  a  disreputable  tom-cat  minus  one 
ear  and  was  in  general  the  friend  of  the  friendless,  spoke 
bitterly : 

"  So  it's  afther  callin'  her  a  haythan  they  are !  Faith,  an' 
not  a  week  ago  I'm  callin'  her  a  saint !  '  There's  a  tramp 
at  the  door,  Miss  Joan,'  says  I.  *  Shall  I  be  afther  feedin* 
him  ?  *  *An'  by  all  means,  Delia,*  says  she.  *  You  niver  can 
tell  whin  wan  of  thim  may  be  Jesus  Hisself ! '  " 


CHAPTER  X 
DEALING  WITH  SOCIAL  SALVATION 

Agnes  had  been  married  six  years  and  her  second  child 
was  three  years  old  when  her  sisters  paid  her  the  first  sub- 
stantial visit.  Previous  to  that  there  had  always  been  some 
reason  why  it  was  not  convenient  for  her  to  have  them  for 
more  than  a  few  days  at  a  time. 

During  those  years,  formative  years  for  the  younger  g^rls, 
the  Wisters  had  lived  on  in  Crannsford,  with  a  slight,  if 
perceptible,  diminution  of  splendor.  Mr.  Wister,  a  thought 
fiercer  perhaps,  still  propelled  his  wheel  chair  from  room  to 
room  and  in  the  stronghold  of  his  seclusion  exercised  what 
tyranny  he  might.  His  wife  came  to  him  only  with  pleas 
for  the  welfare  of  her  children  and  they  signalled  to  each 
other  across  space  in  a  perfunctory  manner  that  became 
increasingly  difficult  as  the  years  went  by. 

With  an  influx  of  new  life  into  the  town  the  older  families 
entertained  less  and  there  was  a  bona  fide  excuse  for  keeping 
fewer  servants.  A  single  expensive  touring  car  now  re- 
placed the  vehicles  that  had  been  old  Jonathan's  pride,  and  a 
mechanic  succeeded  the  coachman  and  stable-boy.  Colum- 
bus still  pottered  about  in  the  garden,  trundling  his  inevi- 
table wheelbarrow  and  looking  as  battered  by  Fate  as  was 
his  famous  prototype,  the  explorer.  Within  the  house  the 
old,  ordered  elegance  prevailed — Mrs.  Wister  saw  to  that — 
but  since  Claire  had  tired  of  Crannsford  society  and  Joan 
had  proven  so  reluctant  a  bud  it  was  seldom  that  she  played 
hostess  with  her  original  esprit. 


DEAUNG  WITH  SOCIAL  SALVATION       95 

If  Jonathan  Wister  kept  closer  hold  on  the  purse  strings, 
lopping  off  extra  expenses  like  useless  limbs  where  he  found 
them,  pride  prevented  him  from  making  an  outcry.  Nor 
did  Jenny  Wister,  who  watched  the  slow  drooping  of  those 
heavy  shoulders,  give  sign  to  her  daughters.  Her  face  was 
smaller  and  whiter  now,  like  a  frost-touched  flower,  her 
manner  more  delicately  remote,  and  as  the  years  gained 
upon  her  she  wrapped  herself  in  a  chrysalis  of  reserve,  her 
manner  seeming  to  betoken,  "  I  was  bom  a  Morrow,  and 
the  Morrows  speak  only  to  God."  Certainly,  as  standards 
sagged  about  her,  and  bungalows  sprang  up  from  the  comer- 
stones  of  mansions,  there  was  greater  need  to  hold  oneself 
high  and  unsullied. 

Elm  Street,  where  stood  the  Wister  home,  had  hitherto 
been  the  show  street  of  Crannsford.  Its  famous  trees, 
arching  suavely  above  the  road,  were  sentinels  to  insure 
peace,  and  the  houses,  withdrawn  into  their  lawns  and 
gardens,  had  each  a  personality  as  individual  as  uncor- 
rupted.  But,  alas,  the  aristocracy  of  Crannsford  now 
moved  in  endless  pageant  toward  the  cemetery,  the  younger 
generation  turned  toward  pastures  new,  and  the  fine  places 
were  speedily  acquired  by  unknown  tradespeople,  who  took 
up  occupancy  with  golden  oak  and  equally  ornate  ambitions. 
One  found  them  over-cordial  when  one  called  to  collect  for 
charities,  and  the  varnish  of  their  limousines  quite  dazzled 
one's  eye  along  Main  Street  during  the  busy  hour  of  the 
moming.  And  the  outrageous  part  of  it  was  that  these 
nameless  plebeians  were  in  a  way  to  attain  their  desires. 
One  had  either  to  accept  them  as  competitors  or  to  with- 
draw from  the  field,  which  was  unthinkable.  But  bitterly 
as  their  advent  was  resented  by  his  wife,  old  Jonathan,  for 
years  fed  on  inactivity,  watched  with  approval  the  signs 
of  progress. 

He  would  chuckle  as  he  wheeled  himself  to  the  window  to 


96  BLIND  WISDOM 

witness  some  particularly  killing  display  of  affluence  on  the 
part  of  the  parvenus.  Having  hitherto  suffered  from  the 
snobbery  of  Crannsford,  it  no  doubt  eased  his  rancor  that 
the  underdog  was  coming  to  the  fore.  Also  he  yearned 
to  the  New  America,  pouring  a  vigorous  type  from  its  boil- 
ing crucible ;  his  fingers  itched  toward  activity,  and  he  would 
manoeuver  his  great  helpless  body  back  and  forth  in  his 
chair,  as  though  working  up  the  momentum  to  participate. 

But  his  wife  was  hurt  to  her  holiest  fibre.  She  was  a 
resourceful  woman  and  her  expedients  were  famous. 

"  What  do  you  want  to  leave  for,"  demanded  her  hus- 
band testily,  after  she  unfolded  her  plan  for  the  social 
salvation  of  the  girls,  "just  when  the  town's  likely  to  be- 
come a  real  place?"  Thereby  demonstrating  for  the  mil- 
lionth time  their  utter  incompatibility.  In  the  end  she  had 
her  way,  though  Jonathan  was  no  nearer  grasping  her  point 
of  view.  He  had  come  to  recognize  the  fact  that  there  was 
a  blind  angle  between  them ! 

Accordingly,  a  sister  of  Jonathan's  was  summoned  from 
the  middle  west  to  look  after  his  welfare,  one  of  those 
convenient  souls  who  believe  in  black  alpaca  and  have  a 
natural  penchant  for  running  other  people's  houses. 

"  'And  I'm  to  be  finished  by  travel — whatever's  the  mean- 
ing of  that  ? '  "  Joan  quoted  to  her  old  friend,  Jerry,  on  the 
eve  of  departure  for  Europe.  "And  I'm  piling  up  statistics 
as  fast  as  ever  I  can— the  most  heterogeneous  information 
about  France,  Italy  and  Switzerland.  When  I  get  there  I 
hope  to  sort  it  out." 

But  when  they  met  Jerry  the  following  spring  prowling 
about  Westminster  Abbey,  Joan  overwhelmed  him  with 
girlish  enthusiasm  and  inaccuracies,  like  a  perverted 
Baedeker.  While  Claire  had  been  daintily  dallying  with 
foreign  young  men,  sampling  their  attractions  as  one  tastes 
the  wine  of  the  country,  Joan  had  been  dipping  into  every 


DEALING  WITH  SOCIAL  SALVATION       97 

sort  of  artistic  enjoyment.  From  her  treasure  trove  she  of- 
fered Jerry  all  sorts  of  polished  gems,  and  the  heart  of  the 
lonely  bachelor,  Jerry,  leaped  in  recognition  of  their  kin- 
ship. 

Joan,  smart  in  her  new  French  finery,  teeming  with  the 
romance  of  the  Latin  countries,  was  a  poem  in  woman,  and 
yet  one  that  might  easily  be  exploited.  For  he  saw  that 
like  himself  she  was  innately  lonely  and  this  loneliness  was 
her  danger,  her  easy  confidence  in  men  a  quality  to  be 
preyed  upon.  She  could  not  even  so  much  as  buy  an  apple 
from  the  Cockney  at  the  corner  without  bringing  a  special 
air  to  the  transaction.  During  those  few  days  in  London 
he  watched  her  with  an  engrossed  interest  that  kept  him 
from  emitting  any  sparks  himself;  he  seemed  always  on 
guard  against  some  snare  lurking  for  her.  "  Hang  it,"  he 
thought,  "  I'm  like  a  hen  with  a  chick.  Oh,  the  girl's  got 
to  work  out  her  own  defences.  This  is  the  very  narrow- 
ness I've  always  railed  against." 

It  was  the  news  of  Mr.  Wister's  failing  health  that 
brought  them  home,  back  to  the  grim  house,  so  banal  after 
their  al  fresco  life  in  southern  Europe.  Alas,  they  were 
more  hopeless  misfits  than  before.  When  they  bore  in  upon 
him  with  their  foreign  flavor,  Jonathan's  jaded  interest  was 
quickened.  He  found  himself  intrigued  by  the  very  at- 
mosphere of  decadent  culture  that  he  had  deplored. 

But  with  the  poor  paralytic's  determination  to  linger 
longer  this  side  the  mysterious  river,  once  again  something 
had  to  be  done  about  the  girls.  There  was  no  possible 
life  for  them  In  Crannsford.  They  found  themselves  in  the 
predicament  of  queens  without  a  court.  Somehow  in  their 
absence  their  own  particular  circle  had  dissolved  into  by- 
channels,  and  in  its  place  stood  bright  crudity,  good  looks 
and  bad  grammar.  This  time  it  was  Agnes  who  solved  the 
situation. 


98  BLIND  WISDOM 

"  I  have  two  maids  now/'  she  wrote  her  mother,  *'  and  can 
easily  have  the  girls  with  me  for  a  long  stay.  At  last  my 
household  seems  organized.  There  is  time  for  reading  and 
study — time  also  in  which  to  be  lonely," — a  new  note  for 
the  self-sufficient  Agnes  to  be  sounding. 

Agnes  had  matured  with  a  phlegmatic  acceptance  of  age 
as  a  duty ;  she  had  grown  old,  so  to  speak,  without  putting 
out  a  hand  to  save  herself.  Joan  wondered,  when  she  met 
them  at  the  train,  if  becoming  a  matron  and  a  mother,  those 
natural  developments  in  themselves,  could  be  held  account- 
able for  the  wrinkles  about  her  eyes  and  the  indifference  of 
her  dress. 

Ordinarily  Agnes  would  have  led  off  with  some  trite  card 
of  conversation  that  revealed  her  in  type.  But  to-day, 
massed  with  the  others  behind  the  gate  of  ingress,  she  sim- 
ply cried,  **  Oh,  girls,  how  long  it's  been ! "  and  drawn  by 
the  melting  of  that  habitual  reserve,  each  had  thought: 

"  Dear  old  Agnes,  she  really  is  human,  after  all." 

They  piled  into  the  taxi  with  the  cozy  air  of  adventurers, 
and  Agnes  quickened  almost  to  vivaciousness  as  she  sat 
between  the  two,  plying  them  with  questions  and  in  turn 
vouchsafing  information  about  her  own  concerns.  Till,  with 
their  inquiries  for  Godfrey,  her  ball  of  buoyancy  was  pricked 
and  spontaneity  escaped. 

"  Oh,  Godfrey  is  well,"  she  managed  her  features  to  a 
threadbare  smile,  "but  so  very  rushed — almost  a  stranger 
to  us — even  his  evenings  are  usually  devoted  to  business. 
However,  he  manages  to  have  an  hour  with  the  children. 
Godfrey  is  a  model  father ! "  she  added  with  the  faintest 
belligerence,  and  glanced  furtively  from  one  to  the  other 
as  though  anticipating  denial. 

"But  isn*t  it  perfectly  ducky  to  be  living  in  town?" 
Gaire  caught  at  her  hand  reassuringly.  "  I  don't  mind  tell- 
ing you,  Agnes,  that  this  is  the  first  minute  I've  been  happy 


DEALING  WITH  SOCIAL  SALVATION       99 

since  I  left  Paris.  Crannsford's  a  dump — a  perfect  dump. 
It  hasn't  an  ounce  of  atmosphere  of  any  kind,  not  even  the 
old,  aristocratic  one.  If  I  stay  there  I'll  either  have  to 
marry  Bud  MacGregor,  hardware  and  garden  seeds,  you 
know,  or  Billy  Nash,  the  dry-goods  king,  and  I'm  spoiled 
for  either.     I  want  Father  to  buy  me  a  prince ! " 

She  gave  a  rippling  laugh. 

Agnes  played  with  her  umbrella  while  the  eccentric  taxi 
curved  and  cavorted.  It  was  a  rather  pessimistic  umbrella 
and  its  rusty  folds  flapped  against  her  knee. 

"  I  don't  think  I  like  New  York  so  much,"  she  spoke 
guardedly.  "  It  hardly  seems  to  me  the  environment  for 
growing  children.  Have  you  ever  thought  how  artificial 
it  is?  Later,  when  the  babes  are  older,  I  shall  try  to  per- 
suade Godfrey  to  take  a  house  in  Berton  near  his  family. 
I've  been  agitating  the  move  for  some  time,  but  he  simply 
won't  hear  of  it.  He  says  he'd  feel  as  rural  as  a  cab- 
bage." 

She  smiled  ruefully  as  she  fingered  a  tassel,  and  Claire 
saw  that  her  gloves  were  shabby.  Such  lack  of  fastidious- 
ness caused  her  almost  physical  discomfort,  and  was  not  to 
go  unprotested. 

"  But  Agnes,"  she  began,  getting  at  the  matter  vicariously, 
"  Godfrey  must  make  a  splendid  income  now !  " 

Agnes  turned  gray,  dispassionate  eyes  upon  her,  eyes  that 
warned  half  proudly,  half  pitifully,  "  Do  not  come  too 
close !  "    Aloud  she  answered : 

"  He  does,  but  I'd  rather  save  it  for  the  children  than 
spend  it  on  myself." 

"  How  like  you ! "  cried  Gaire  with  spirit.  "  Oh,  I  don't 
despise  economy,  especially  where  there  are  kiddies,  but  I 
wouldn't  think  my  personal  career  as  a  woman  was  ended 
just  because  I  happened  to  be  married.  I'd  be  as  smartly 
dressed  and  attractive  as  ever  I  could.    I'll  wager  I'd  be  a 


100  BLIND  WISDOM 

definite  somebody  while  I  was  young  and  had  the  oppor- 
tunity." 

"  Would  you  ?  "  murmured  Agnes,  unimpressed.  "  You 
were  always  so  strenuous,  Claire.  .  .  .  Here  we  are," 
and  she  gathered  up  her  umbrella  and  utilitarian  bag  as  the 
taxi  halted  at  a  very  narrow  house  in  the  eighties,  on  the 
right  side  of  the  park. 

It  proved  to  be  a  bit  of  New  England,  stiff-elbowed  be- 
tween its  more  worldly  neighbors,  and  as  aloof  as  a  coun- 
try girl  come  to  town.  Agnes  had  chosen  everything  for 
chaste  durability,  at  the  sacrifice  of  considerable  beauty. 
Nevertheless  the  unvarying  green  carpets  and  snowy  cur- 
tains in  conjunction  with  her  good  Colonial  furniture  pro- 
duced an  impression  of  sanity  not  unrefreshing  after  the 
foibles  of  the  city.  Agnes  was  not  one  to  take  her  domestic 
duties  lightly;  she  was,  in  fact,  immensely  serious  about 
life  in  general,  and  at  pains  to  impress  her  point  of  view 
upon  all  who  came  beneath  her  jurisdiction. 

"After  you  have  been  to  your  room  you  will  want  to 
peep  in  at  the  nursery,"  she  suggested  with  quaint  formality 
and  stayed  below  to  remove  her  wraps,  while  an  elderly 
housemaid,  evidently  designed  for  her  by  an  obliging  Provi- 
dence, ushered  them  up-stairs  with  a  rustle  of  starch. 

But  babyhood  took  small  heed  of  precise  programs,  and 
in  the  upper  hallway  both  little  Blunts  came  frolicking  for 
a  look  at  their  aunts,  arriving  with  pomp  and  circumstance. 

"  Oh,  how  precious,"  exclaimed  Joan.  "  See  them, 
Claire,  full-fledged  offspring!    Would  you  ever  know  'em?" 

Priscilla,  the  elder,  was  five  and  an  exact  replica  of 
Agnes,  a  sober  little  maiden  whose  priggishness  was  irresist- 
ible. She  advanced  with  dignity,  and  in  pious  martyrdom 
held  up  her  cheek  to  be  kissed.  Joan's  sense  of  humor  was 
touched  as,  after  a  little  hesitation,  she  fulfilled  expecta- 
tions. 


DEALING  WITH  SOCIAL" SALVATION     loi 

"  Why,  Prissy,"  sHq  said  merrily,  "  how  good  of  you ! 
Do  you  remember  Aunt  Claire  and  me  ?  " 

The  shining  head  bobbed  vehemently. 

"  Yeth,  I  do.  Mama  tol'  me  to  thay  I  remember  quite 
well.     Thith  ith  Godfwey.     He's  three  an'  can  spell  *  cat.' " 

But  Godfrey,  as  downy  with  his  yellow  curls  as  a  new- 
hatched  chicken,  after  a  tentative  advance  became  glori- 
ously pink  with  confusion,  and  finding  a  footstool  con- 
venient doubled  himself  over  it  after  the  manner  of  an 
ostrich,  pressing  his  face  to  the  leather  and  no  doubt  be- 
lieving himself  invisible.  Thus  posed,  the  fleshy  part  of 
his  anatomy  upreared  in  pink  rompers,  he  presented  a  novel 
and  interesting  study,  demonstrating  conclusively  that  man's 
lower  limbs  have  elongated  since  the  time  when  he  walked 
on  four  feet. 

Joan,  wise  in  her  day,  regarded  him  impersonally. 

"Ah,"  she  murmured,  "  a  contortionist !  Let  us  see  how 
long  he  can  remain  so,"  and  she  started  to  count.  Where- 
upon Godfrey,  with  the  blood  rushing  to  his  head,  capitulated 
and  rolled  sideways  on  the  floor,  still  shielding  his  face 
with  his  fists. 

"  Do  'way,"  he  screamed  in  his  humiliation,  "  do  'way." 

Claire  and  Joan  passed  breezily  to  their  room  and  feigned 
to  ignore  him.  They  knew  that  by  all  the  laws  of  per- 
versity the  small  rascal  would  resent  such  treatment,  and 
they  were  not  mistaken.  Presently  there  was  the  sound  of 
toddling  feet  and  a  bewitching  face  arched  anxiously  about 
the  door  frame.  Neither  girl  paid  any  heed,  continuing  the 
Intricacies  of  her  toilette,  while  he  insinuated  his  small  self 
in  and  edged  along  the  wall. 

"  Me  knows  oo,"  came  the  wooing  voice,  as  muslc-gush- 
Ing  as  a  bird's.  "  Godfwey  free  years  ol'.  Ver*  big,"  and 
he  proceeded  to  lay  before  them  the  catalogue  of  his  attrac- 
tions.   At  first  he  was  quite  cheerful  in  his  self-advertise^ 


102  BLIND  WISDOM 

ment,  like  an  agent  with  implicit  faith  in  the  article  fie  Han- 
dles, who  will  not  allow  himself  to  feel  offended  if  its  merits 
be  not  recognized  at  once. 

"  Ver'  big  and  ver'  bad,"  he  added  impressively. 
A  disinterested  silence  prevailed. 

"Godfwey  pull  ol'  cat's  tail.  Godfwey  never  mind 
nurse." 

Still  no  nibbling  at  his  bait.  Could  it  be  that  they  were 
immune  to  such  a  captivating  fellow  ?  Claire  was  brushing 
her  hair  while  Joan  sat  weaving  ribbons  into  whiteness. 
Hurt  beyond  endurance,  the  little  chap  stamped  his  foot.  A 
sob  rose  in  his  throat  and  caught  him  in  its  paroxysm. 

"  Why,"  he  screamed,  "  don't  some  one  tiss  me  ?  " 

Then  it  was  that  he  won  them,  for  both  came  tumbling  at 
once,  and  were  lavish  with  caresses.  Hours  later,  when 
they  had  retired,  Joan  ventured  her  opinion  to  Claire : 

"  Priscilla'll  be  a  *  good  girl  and  help  her  mother,'  but 
Godfrey  will  be  adorably  bad  and  break  her  heart." 

That  evening  Joan  heard  Godfrey  Senior's  voice  before  he 
was  aware  of  their  presence  in  the  house.  She  had  dressed 
sooner  than  Claire,  who  was  a  shameless  prinker,  and  wan- 
dered down  into  the  little  drawing-room,  quiet  in  the  negli- 
gible hour  before  dinner.  A  fire  simmered  in  the  old-fash- 
ioned grate,  Agnes'  neutral-tinted  lamps  were  lighted,  and 
with  such  flattering  accessories  one  forgot  the  uncompromis- 
ing chairs,  that  the  starched  petticoats  at  the  windows 
might  have  been  softened  by  over  drapery,  and  that  all  the 
books  in  the  low  cases  were  standard  works.  On  a  wicker 
sewing  stand  by  the  fire  were  some  small  garments  that 
Agnes  had  been  hemstitching,  and  their  influence  went  a 
long  way  toward  humanizing  the  room. 

Joan  had  picked  up  a  volume  entitled,  "The  Christian 
Impulse,"  when  Godfrey's  voice  arrested  her.  He  was  in 
the  small  library  adjoining,  holding  a  telephonic  conversa- 


DEALING  WITH  SOCIAL  SALVATION     103 

tion  in  a  subdued  voice.  She  had  no  reason  for  nor  wish  to 
play  eavesdropper,  but  the  context  of  "  The  Christian  Im- 
pulse "  proved  insufficient  to  shut  out  that  insidious,  soft 
voice. 

"  Of  course  I'm  coming,  Baxter  .  .  .  Tell  Marjorie 
.  .  .  Thought  I  said — well,  I  did  say  relatives  .  .  . 
all  the  more  reason  .  .  ,  wouldn't  miss  it  ...  Is 
she  there  ?  "  Still  holding  the  instrument  in  his  hand,  he 
took  a  step  backward  within  the  range  of  the  drawing-room 
door,  discovered  its  solitary  occupant,  and  without  nodding 
retreated.  "  Never  mind,  never  mind,"  Joan  heard  him  say, 
"  I'll  have  to  go  now  .  .  .  time  to  dress,"  and  he 
crammed  the  receiver  unceremoniously  onto  the  hook. 

Suddenly  he  was  with  her,  breaking  the  waves  of  stillness 
that  receded  to  the  comers  of  the  room.  He  was  manifestly 
different,  this  new  Godfrey,  impeccably  groomed,  with  high 
color  and  at  high  tension.  It  occurred  to  Joan  that  some- 
where in  the  past  five  years  he  had  become  discouraged  with 
his  role,  had  ceased  to  play  the  minister's  son  with  his 
original  enthusiasm. 

"  Little  Joan,  well,  'pon  my  word."  He  swung  toward 
her  with  great  bluster,  both  hands  extended,  but  they  hesi- 
tated upon  her  shoulders  while  he  awkwardly  acquainted 
himself  with  her  youngladydom.  "Ought  I  to  kiss  you? 
I  don't  believe  I  ought  any  more,  and  that's  just  why  I  will." 
He  kissed  her  lightly  on  both  cheeks. 

"  How  are  you,  Godfrey  ?  "  asked  Joan  curiously.  "  We 
are  both  different,  aren't  we?" 

"  You,"  he  gasped,  "  why,  the  last  time  I  saw  you  you 
were  all  legs  and  arms.  I  beg  your  pardon,  Joan,  perhaps  it 
isn't  seemly  to  say,  even  to  one's  sister-in-law,  but  now 
you're  somehow  connected  up." 

"  Oh,"  she  blushed  strangely,  "  I  didn't  mean  just  ex- 
teriors.   I  meant  we  have  new  interior  decorations.     Isn't 


104  BLIND  WISDOM 

it  the  chambered  nautilus  that  outgrows  its  shell  pacK 
year?" 

Godfrey  laughed. 

"  I'm  sure  I  couldn't  say.  In  what  way  'do  you  find  me 
different?" 

"  I  haven't  had  time  to  decide,  but  you've  changed  im- 
mensely. So  has  Agnes."  She  said  that  with  unconscious 
emphasis.  Godfrey,  who  was  lighting  a  cigarette,  reared  his 
head  sharply. 

"  So  you've  noticed  it  too.  Yes,  she's  waiting  as  patiently 
as  possible  for  gray  hair.  By  the  way,  how  do  you  like  the 
house  ?  "  His  voice  was  ironic.  "  Isn't  it  a  regular  moral 
lesson?" 

Joan  crinkled  up  her  eyes  in  a  laugh,  and  they  sat  down 
together  on  the  green  divan,  each  almost  visibly  extending 
tentacles  of  curiosity.  AH  during  their  talk  of  Crannsford, 
of  Joan's  parents  and  of  Godfrey's  children,  there  was  a 
seeking  for  labels. 

"  I'm  sorry  I  have  a  dinner  engagement,"  Godfrey  said  at 
last  with  sincerity,  but  he  stumbled  into  a  pit  of  hypocrisy 
with  the  murmured  words,  "  Clients  of  mine.  However, 
Jerry'll  be  with  you — for  a  time  at  least.  Jerry's  no  kind  of 
a  lawyer.  Leaves  all  the  disagreeable  work  to  me.  Ah, 
here  are  the  girls  now." 

Claire  and  Agnes,  arm  in  arm,  and  dressed  for  dinner, 
presented  a  cruel  contrast.  Claire,  affecting  sophistication, 
had  dared  greatly  and  nothing  too  black  could  be  said  of  her 
gown.  Arms  and  shoulders  flowed  out  of  it  like  warm 
Parian  marble.  Her  hair  held  a  lively  tinge  of  red,  and 
though  her  features  were  somewhat  irregular  they  would 
have  passed  as  beautiful  by  their  animation. 

Agnes,  beside  her,  counted  only  as  a  foil,  yet  the  advan- 
tage was  unfair.  Her  straight,  mouse-colored  hair,  brushed 
back,  revealed  a  white  brow,  as  candid  as  a  child's;  her 


DEALING  WITH  SOCIAL  SALVATION     105 

figure  was  slender,  clothes  and  mannerisms  both  hiding 
potential  grace.  The  muslin  frock,  a  bit  mussed  and  dis- 
colored, was  such  as  a  missionary's  wife  might  wear  when 
she  served  tea  to  heathen  converts.  Was  there  not,  after 
all,  something  to  be  said  for  Godfrey  ? 

Joan  held  aloof,  pondering,  watching  Agnes'  husband  re- 
act to  Claire  even  more  strongly  than  he  had  reacted  to  her. 
Verily,  now,  he  was  sorry  that  he  was  dining  out.  But 
Agnes  accepted  the  fact  with  equanimity.  When  he  came 
down  in  crisp  evening  togs  she  stood  ready  to  help  him  into 
his  coat,  her  usually  pale  face  quite  transparent  and  glowing 
with  pride. 

"  Yes,  you'll  do  very  nicely.  Don't  stay  late,  dear.  Little 
Brother  wants  you  to  wake  him  when  you  come  in.  He's 
growing  so  observing,  Godfrey, — just  think,  to-day  he 
said ■" 

The  bell  was  being  rung,  and  conversation  ceased  while 
the  elderly  housemaid  pussyfooted  through  the  hall. 

"  Oh,"  said  Joan  with  quick  pleasure,  "  it's  Jerry,  of 
course,"  and  hurried  forward. 

There  had  been  small  chance  to  renew  friendship  when 
they  met  in  London,  and  she  was  looking  forward  keenly  to 
it  now.  Other  girls  might  have  sweethearts  galore,  but 
hardly  one  could  boast  of  a  knight  so  old  and  so  wise  as 
Jerry.  He  must  be  at  least  thirty-five  and  he  held  the  key 
to  all  sorts  of  complex  enjoyments.  Yet,  fond  as  Joan  felt 
of  him,  it  is  to  be  doubted  if  she  was  aware  of  his  real  value. 
She  had  never  been  deprived  of  his  devotion  for  long  enough 
to  miss  it,  and  "  men  do  not  celebrate  in  rhyme  their  daily 
bread." 

There  he  was,  already  past  the  stiff  Hannah,  and,  as  God- 
frey expressed  it,  "  bursting  an  eye  "  for  his  protegee.  His 
worn  stick  eluded  the  maid  and  went  to  roost  upon  the 
antlers  of  a  deer,  for  Jerry  had  his  own  way  of  doing  things. 


io6  BLIND  WISDOM 

But  Hannah  bore  away  his  coat,  and  thus  divested  he  was 
revealed  in  reluctant  Tuxedo,  a  thinner  Jerry,  with  stem 
lines  and  kindly  lines  feeling  their  way  into  his  face,  and 
with  the  unfailing  surprise  of  his  good  smile.  His  dark 
brown  hair,  brushed  back  as  of  old,  came  to  a  "  widow's 
peak  "  in  the  middle  of  his  forehead,  and  he  still  wore  the 
suns  of  the  past  summer.  He  had  earnest  eyebrows,  candid 
and  well-defined,  the  nose  a  trace  too  sensitive,  but  the 
mouth  broad,  laughter-loving  and  tender.  Yet,  never  to  be 
doubted,  there  was  sufficient  stem  stuff  in  him  to  overweigh 
those  finer  qualities  of  which  his  father  had  been  bitterly 
suspicious  since  Jerry's  boyhood.  From  his  very  repression 
one  felt  at  times  the  more  keenly  his  masculinity.  Walt 
Whitman  said:  . 

"  The  male  is  not  less  the  soul  nor  more,  he  too  is  in  his  place. 
He  too  is  all  qualities,  he  is  action  and  power, 
The  flush  of  the  known  universe  is  in  him.     .     .     ." 

With  affectionate  salutations  they  came  to  him,  and  the 
room  suddenly  abounded  in  good  will. 

He  shook  hands  with  Joan  last  of  all,  to  her  mystification, 
till  she  received  the  long  sweet  draught  of  his  look  that 
stirred  in  her  the  memory  of  their  rich  association. 

"Am  I  changed,  Jerry?"  she  burst  out,  linking  an  arm 
through  his  and  feeling  immensely  happy  and  cared  for. 
"  Godfrey  says  I  used  to  be  all  leg  and  now " 

"  Limb,  dear,"  corrected  Agnes  with  a  patient  smile, 
"limb!" 

Joan  shot  a  glance  at  Jerry,  and  stood  by  her  guns. 

"  Leg,"  she  repeated  stanchly.  "  Limb  sounds  lots  leggier 
than  leg,     I  leave  it  to  Jerry !  ** 

Jerry  laughed  helplessly  and  Godfrey  exploded. 

"  Oh,  why  do  you  leave  it  to  him  ?  He's  almost  as  great 
a  highbrow  as  Agnes — one  of  those  hopeless  people  you 


DEALING  WITH  SOCIAL  SALVATION     107 

can't  corrupt,"  and  he  twirled  his  stick  with  smiling  satis- 
faction. 

**  How  do  you  mean  ?  "  quizzed  Joan. 

"  He  thinks  he  loves  humanity,  but  he  only  *  watches 
through  a  telescope.'  I  can  never  persuade  him  to  mingle. 
He's  a  budding  playwright,  you  know,  and  he  has  to  poke 
around  a  bit  to  get  his  types.  But  it's  superficial  observa- 
tion, take  it  from  me."  He  gave  Jerry  an  amiable  shove. 
"  He  despises  his  own  popularity.  It's  a  case  of  *  Pierrot 
loves  his  music  but  we  love  Pierrot.' " 

"  Go  to,"  quoted  Jerry  good-naturedly.  "  It's  the  excep- 
tion that  proves  the  rule,  and  if  you  intend  leaving  me  with 
these  three  charming  girls  I'll  not  be  responsible  for  my 
conduct." 

He  followed  Godfrey  to  the  hall  with  nonsense  floating 
over  his  shoulder.  The  door  closed,  but  a  sharp  rift  of  air 
drove  him  back  to  the  fire.  Joan  came  promptly  to  perch 
on  his  chair  arm. 

"  This  is  what  Lishaby  would  call  *  three  shirt  weather,' " 
she  reminded  him,  taking  the  most  direct  road  to  the  dear 
familiar  past. 

And, 

"Sure  enough,"  he  recalled.  "How  is  old  Lishaby? 
Does  she  still  get  up  so  early  mornings  that  she  meets  herself 
going  to  bed  at  night? " 

There  were  months  of  accumulated  talk  between  them, 
and,  try  as  they  might  to  include  Claire  and  Agnes,  their 
conversation  inevitably  resolved  itself  into  a  duet.  After 
dinner  Agnes  made  rompers  for  the  baby,  plying  her  needle 
bravely  through  difficult  material,  little  housewifely  worries 
on  her  brow.  But  Claire,  after  periods  at  the  piano,  chafed 
frankly  at  the  dull  evening  and  took  up  vigil  at  the  window, 
hungrily  speculating  upon  what  the  city  might  hold  for  her. 
Eventually  both  girls  broke  into  yawns  and  gravitated  Xq 


io8  BLIND  WISDOM 

their  rooms,  while  below  Joan  and  Jerry  continued  to  talk. 
It  was  autumn  again  and  the  theatrical  season  opening,  and 
he  and  Joan  were  for  the  first  time  to  cultivate  their  tastes 
in  common. 

"  Do  you  love  people?"  he  asked  curiously,  certain  in  his 
heart  what  the  answer  would  be. 

"  Close  to,  or  through  a  telescope  ?  "  she  countered  mis- 
chievously. 

"  Both." 

"Yes,  of  course  I  do.  I'm  in  love  with  life:  I  could 
eat  it." 

"  Bravo,  then.    We'll  begin  to-morrow." 

It  was  not  strange  that  excitement  kept  her  awake  that 
night.  In  the  little  bed  next  her  sister's  she  tossed  fever- 
ishly, but  could  not  summon  a  dream  until,  well  toward 
morning,  she  conceived  of  the  idea  of  slipping  down-stairs 
for  a  bite  to  eat,  a  sedative  that  should  bring  her  rest. 

All  was  quiet  and  inky  as  her  slippered  feet  came  scuffing 
down  the  stair,  but  she  knew  where  the  electric  switch  was 
located,  and  touching  it  with  a  cautious  finger  flooded  the 
hall  and  drawing-room  with  light.  Next  she  stood  rubbing 
her  eyes  in  the  glare,  inclined  to  believe  that  she  was  at  last 
dreaming,  for  there  in  an  armchair  sat  Agnes  in  a  heavy 
dressing-gown,  her  face  gray  with  fatigue,  her  hair  falling  in 
abandon  over  her  shoulders.  In  a  second  she  was  awake 
and  on  her  feet,  trembling. 

"  Oh,"  she  whimpered,  and  tHen,  apologetically,  proudly, 
*'  I  was  waiting  up.    Godfrey  hasn't  come  in.'* 


CHAPTER  XI 
"THE  PLAY'S  THE  THING" 

*'We  will  start,"  Jerry  had  said  with  particular  relish, 
*'  at  the  top  of  the  ladder,"  and  Joan  had  arrayed  herself 
accordingly.  Her  soft  gray  chiffon  frock,  with  undertones 
of  rose  embroidery,  paid  tribute  to  the  restraint  and  imagi- 
nation of  its  creator.  She  was  only  beginning  to  consider 
clothes  as  a  factor;  enjoying  them  as  she  enjoyed  flowers, 
aside  from  any  particular  relationship  to  herself.  Jerry 
knew  that  she  had  slid  into  the  dress,  clean  and  youthful, 
without  sensuous  calculation.  She  wore  no  jewel  and 
needed  none.  Her  eyes  with  their  tawny  lights,  their  chang- 
ing tones  of  interest,  were  enough  to  rivet  attention.  Her 
dark  hair  looked  tremendously  well-brushed  and  its  simple 
coiffure  revealed  the  beautiful,  adolescent  line  of  her  head. 
Once  or  twice,  as  she  turned  pensively  to  study  the  people 
in  the  restaurant,  Jerry's  look  fell  upon  her  drooping  lashes 
and  the  unspoiled  contour  of  the  cheek  with  a  vivid  emotion, 
half  pain,  half  pleasure. 

He  had  chosen  an  exclusively  smart  place  in  which  to 
dine,  a  restaurant  in  lower  Park  Avenue  whose  clientele  was 
made  up  for  the  most  part  of  discriminating  social  leaders. 
There  Joan  was  ushered  into  a  Louis  Quatorze  dining- 
room,  gray  and  cream,  with  lounge  and  chairs  of  Du  Barry 
red.  All  about  were  carefully  dressed  persons  who  now 
seemed  "  sacs  merely  floating  with  mouths  for  food  to 
slip  in." 

The  head  waiter,  who  removed  the  table  from  the  lounge 
for  Joan  to  be  seated,  bowed  with  a  wonderful  ceremonious 


no  BLIND  WISDOM 

politeness  to  her,  whereupon,  to  Jerry's  amusement  and 
adoration,  she  flashed  him  a  smile  of  charming  condescen- 
sion. 

"  Oh,"  she  told  Jerry,  "  this  reminds  me  of  that  inner 
room  of  Marie  Antoinette's  at  Versailles,  where  she  and 
Louis  waited  when  the  revolutionists  were  breaking  in.  All 
the  time  I  was  there  I  imagined  I  heard  them  crashing  down 
door  after  door." 

And  when  Jerry  bent  to  the  menu  she  blushed  and  whis- 
pered, "Don't  you  think  we  ought  to  drink  cocktails? 
Every  one  else  is !  I  should  like  a  pink  one,  with  whipped 
cream  on  the  top — at  least  it  looks  that  way." 

Jerry  was  troubled. 

"  How  old  are  you,  Joan?  " 

"  I'm  twenty-three  and  a  quarter,  Jerry,  and  '  Ah  alius 
liquor  up  when  Dad  does.'  " 

"  Very  well,"  he  laughed,  "  you  shall  have  one.  Two 
Clover  Clubs,  waiter.  And  now,  what  do  you  suppose  you 
would  like  to  eat  ?  " 

She  looked  as  un jaded  as  a  child  waiting  for  the  jack  to 
pop  out  of  the  box. 

"  Something  I've  never  eaten  before  and  never  heard  of. 
What  would  that  be,  gargon  ?  " 

A  smile  trooped  over  the  impassive  face. 

"  Zat  would  be  difficult  to  say,  mam'selle.  Ici  on  a  tous 
les  choses  delicieuses." 

"  I'm  afraid,  dear,"  Jerry  apologized,  "  that  the  chef  could 
have  had  no  warning  of  an  Immortal's  approach !  "  But  he 
ordered  with  princely  choice  and  settled  back  to  enjoy- 
ment. 

After  the  cocktails  were  finished  a  little  stringed  orchestra 
sent  Its  refreshing  melody  to  cool  them  like  a  breeze.  China 
and  glass  sounded  a  silver  accompaniment.  The  sheathed 
lights  made  golden  explosions  in  the  long  French  mirrors 


"  THE  PLAY'S  THE  THING  "  1 1 1 

and  the  head  waiter  with  the  beautiful  manners  was  weaving 
back  and  forth  Hke  a  shuttle  between  the  tables,  ever  draw- 
ing them  aside  as  newcomers  slipped  to  the  lounge,  ever 
bending  and  arching  his  body  in  poetical  subservience.  Joan 
experienced  a  dainty  intoxication. 

"  Oh,  Jerry,"  she  sighed  above  a  filet  of  sole  with  mush- 
rooms, "  why  is  it,  what  is  it  that  one  wants  always  in  the 
midst  of  pleasure  ?  It's  when  I'm  happiest  that  I  feel  most 
incomplete.     Tell  me,  Jerry,  if  you  know." 

Such  gropings  were  characteristic  of  the  unformed  girl 
she  had  been,  yet  in  her  eyes,  approaching  and  retreating, 
was  the  incipient  spark  of  womanhood  that  made  it  impos- 
sible for  him  to  answer  lightly.  He  dared  not  misinterpret 
her  to  herself, 

"  Perhaps,"  answered  Jerry  at  considerable  cost,  "  it's  the 
cry  of  your  heart  for  its  mate.  We're  each  of  us  supposed 
to  have  one,  you  know,"  he  added  with  a  humorous  twitch- 
ing of  the  mouth. 

She  paid  a  mushroom  serious  consideration  before  an- 
swering, "  I  wonder !  It's  so  often  I'm  lonely.  In  Italy, 
in  the  most  heavenly  places,  I  could  never  give  myself  up  to 
enjoyment  without  reservation ;  always  something,  some  one 
I  wanted.  At  times  it  would  almost  come  to  me,  like  a  word 
you've  forgotten;  at  times  there  positively  seemed  to  be 
something  at  my  elbow  and  my  heart  beat  so  fast  it  was 
ready  to  burst.  Then  again,  it  would  be  far,  far  away. 
And  was  it  my  mate  that  I  wanted,  Jerry  ?  " 

Jerry  laughed  at  her  intensity.  He  had  always  the  in- 
stinct of  avoiding  sex-subjects  with  her. 

"  Perhaps  it  was,  little  dreamer.  But  you're  eating  noth- 
mg. 

"  If  I'm  expecting  some  human  to  be  all  that  to  me,**  she 
pursued,  unheeding,  "  to  fill  every  chink,  you  know,  I'm  cer- 
tainly doomed  to  disappointment,  don't  you  think  ?  '* 


112  BLIND  WISDOM 

"  Not  necessarily.  It  sometimes  happens,  I  believe,  that 
one  person  may  embody  all  the  requisites." 

Joan  watched  a  thin  woman  at  a  neighboring  table  take  a 
cigarette  into  her  restless  mouth.  She  said,  as  though  the 
thought  pained  her : 

"  I'm  quite  sure  that  Mother  could  not  have  realized  the 
ideal  in  Father,  and  that  Agnes " 

She  broke  off  precipitately,  flushing.  Jerry's  hand  fell 
over  hers  on  the  edge  of  the  table. 

"  It's  all  right,  Joan.  So  you've  noticed.  I  was  sure  you 
would.  It's  tough,  tough  on  Agnes,  but  you've  got  to  re- 
member this.  Godfrey  didn't  ask  to  be  born  into  a  bishop's 
family.  When  he  found  himself  there  he  tried,  as  they  say 
of  servants,  to  give  satisfaction.  He  has,  unfortunately,  a 
temperament."  He  paused  to  light  a  cigarette.  "  In  the 
Blunt  household  during  all  his  circumscribed  youth  his  ego 
didn't  have  a  chance  to  develgp.  If  he  showed  signs  of 
slipping  his  moorings,  Mr.  Blunt  promptly  nailed  him  to  the 
dock,  as  he  would  have  any  silly,  venturesome  craft.  When 
Godfrey  grew  up,  the  words  *  Lawyer  and  gentleman '  were 
gold-lettered  on  his  bow." 

Joan  nodded  understandingly.  Jerry  narrowed  his  eyes 
like  an  artist  who  regards  his  own  picture. 

"  Before  he  had  truly  learned  to  manage  himself  he  was 
towed  out  into  the  harbor  and  introduced  to  all  the  imposing 
liners  with  whom  it  was  safe  to  hobnob.  Agnes  was  *  a 
liner  and  a  lady.' " 

He  smiled  drily. 

"  And  so  they  were  married  and  started  over  the  same 
route,  Agnes'  canal-line  that  she  could  be  trusted  to  follow 
forever  and  ever.    But  Godfrey " 

"  Yes,  go  on." 

"  Godfrey,  for  the  first  time,  began  to  notice  the  beguiling 
little  cargo  boats  that  were  bound  for  a  different  port  each 


"THE  PLAY'S  THE  THING"  113 

trip,  that  travelled  so  much  lighter,  with  all  the  zest  of  ad- 
venture in  them.  Whenever  he  could,  he  played  truant  to 
join  them." 

The  waiter  had  presented  his  check  and  in  the  formality  of 
departure  the  thread  of  discourse  was  cut.  But  Joan  had 
understood.  When  they  were  without  in  the  cold  brilliancy 
of  the  streets,  he  slipped  a  hand  beneath  her  arm  and  said, 
with  an  air  of  dropping  all  weighty  subjects,  "  I  would  have 
you  know  that  we  are  going  play-hunting  to-night — a  sort  of 
progressive  dramatic  dinner,  beginning  with  something  racy 
and  ending  with  something  sweet.  The  ideal  fare  would  be 
Shaw  for  an  appetizer,  Oscar  Wilde  for  entree,  something 
heavy,  say  Ibsen,  for  the  piece  de  resistance,  and  so  forth 
through  the  courses.  Unfortunately,  New  York  offers  no 
such  judicious  repast." 

He  summoned  a  taxi  and  with  humor  handed  her  magnifi- 
cently in,  elaborating  upon  his  pet  hobby  as  they  bounced 
about  on  the  cushions. 

"  It  isn't  the  business  of  the  general  public  to  concern  It- 
self with  the  modus  operandi  or  the  psychology  of  play- 
production  ;  Thackeray  called  the  public  '  a  savage  child.' 
It  is  fierce  for  fun  or  the  other  thing.  But  the  analyst  can- 
not lose  himself  with  like  abandon.  He  unscrews  the  thing 
with  a  monkey-wrench  and  learns  how  it  functions.  There 
is  seldom  a  consistently  good  play.  In  an  entire  production 
there  may  be  but  a  single  act,  a  single  scene,  or  less — a  single 
great  moment — worthy  of  emulating.  I  see  hundreds  of 
plays,  I  sometimes  see  the  same  scene  or  the  same  act  a 
hundred  times." 

"  But,  Jerry,  how  dull  it  must  become ! " 

"  Not  at  all.  I'm  learning  to  pull  the  strings  that  make 
the  world  and  his  wife  laugh  or  cry.  I'm  also  studying  the 
crowd.  Clayton  Hamilton  says  that  the  crowd  is  more  emo- 
tional and  less  intellectual  than  the  individual.    That's  pre- 


114  BLIND  WISDOM 

eminently  true.  Every  great  play  is  motivated  by  emotion 
rather  than  intellect." 

His  face  was  transfigured  by  enthusiasm;  he  was  the 
craftsman  speaking  his  own  vernacular,  while  Joan,  feeling 
his  unfamiliar  intensity,  endeavored  to  match  herself  to  his 
mood. 

"  If  we  are  only  to  see  snatches  of  things,  I'm  afraid  I 
shall  not  like  it,"  she  protested  feebly,  "  but  I'm  willing  to 
try." 

Jerry  laughed. 

"  Try  my  way,  this  once,  dear,  and  the  next  time  I  promise 
to  sit  through  any  play  you  may  choose." 

He  leaned  forward  and  rapped  on  the  glass. 

"  The  Criterion,  driver." 

In  the  garish  lights  of  the  lobby  Joan  felt  happier.  There 
was  something  contagious  in  the  high  spirits  of  the  pleasure 
seekers,  arriving  by  limousine  or  on  foot.  The  glare  ex- 
ploited the  too-perfect  complexions  of  the  women  and  picked 
out  the  buckles  on  their  slippers.  The  men  too  seemed  gaily 
debonair.  Jerry,  who  had  some  permanent  arrangement 
with  all  box-offices,  paused  to  exchange  a  word  with  the 
ticket-taker.  Joan  heard  the  phrase  "  vehicle  for  the  star," 
and  Jerry's  terse,  "  Tell  you  later."  The  first  act  had  be- 
gun, and  they  were  obliged  to  wait  for  the 'back  seats  that 
Jerry  preferred. 

"Will  these  do,  Mr.  Callendar?"  whispered  a  pretty 
usher  who  was  in  the  habit  of  serving  him.  "  You  may 
change  later,  if  you  like." 

Joan  and  Jerry  seated  themselves  in  the  twilight  and 
focused  upon  the  stage.  There  the  inevitable  society  butler 
and  lady's  maid  were  wielding  feather  dusters  and  bravely 
foreshadowing  the  plot.  Appeared  later  the  star,  the  beau- 
tiful daughter  of  bankrupt  parents,  who  dressed  with  ex- 
pensive simplicity  and  wrestled  with  her  colorless  dialogue 


"THE  PLAY'S  THE  THING"  115 

as  though  she  would  conquer  or  kill  it.  The  audience  was 
offered  the  lay  figure  of  the  crude  rich  man  whom  they  in- 
tended to  victimize,  a  comedy  couple,  and  a  bona  fide  villain. 
And  the  curtain  descended  upon  the  heaving  chest  of  the 
heroine,  who  had  grimly  brought  about  and  accepted  the 
rich  man's  proposal. 

Joan  felt  a  tug  at  her  hand  and  before  the  lights  had 
winked  on  again  Jerry  was  dragging  her  forth.  To  the 
doorkeeper  he  remarked,  chidingly: 

"  Your  vehicle  is  a  perambulator ! "  and  led  Joan  into  the 
street. 

Thence  they  sampled  a  woman-in-the-case  mystery, 
whose  second  act  proved  so  strenuous  that  she  was  obliged 
to  clutch  Jerry  for  moral  support,  a  couple  of  scenes  from  a 
clever  English  comedy  of  delightful  characterization,  and  an 
entire  last  act  of  Barrie's,  so  exquisitely  contrived  and  of  so 
delicate  a  pathos  that  their  spirits  escaped  them  into  a  realm 
of  faery. 

"  Oh,  must  we  go  ? "  she  wailed  when  once  again  the 
merciless  lights  blotted  out  the  dream,  and  found  her  in  a 
luxury  of  tears. 

"  Let  us  eschew  taxis,"  Jerry  suggested  sympathetically, 
"  and  ride  under  the  stars  down  to  Washington  Square  for  a 
bite  with  the  Bohemians."  And  when  the  deserted  'bus  had 
swept  them  smoothly  from  the  region  of  frivolity  down  to  a 
simpler,  bluer  part  of  the  city,  they  condescended  in  through 
frank  odors  of  cookery  to  a  house  so  tiny  you  could  almost 
have  put  your  hand  down  the  chimney  to  open  the  door. 

"  This  is  better,"  she  opined.  "  No  waiter  to  bow  and 
scrape  and  every  one  on  equal  footing." 

"  Yes,"  mused  Jerry  gaily.  "  Here  the  waiter  is  a  thinker 
and  a  revolutionist  and  translates  novels  from  the  Russian. 
All  these  people  are  stark  mad  and  know  it,  and  that  is  the 
rather  redeeming  part  of  them.    At  least,  they  are  not  ob- 


ii6  BLIND  WISDOM 

sessed  by  the  manJa  for  owning  things.  *  Not  one  is  respect- 
able and  unhappy ! '  " 

The  air  was  nearly  opaque  with  smoke  and  there  was  the 
illusion  that  faces  floated  and  heads  wagged  out  of  nothing- 
ness. One  watched  an  impecunious  painter,  with  eyes  to 
take  the  place  of  chin,  and  long-haired,  flowing-tied  faddists 
of  every  variety,  the  hollow-cheeked,  hollow-chested  girl 
with  docked  hair,  consumed  by  her  flair  for  living,  and 
many  others.  Joan  and  Jerry  ate  their  spaghetti  and  drank 
red  wine  out  of  a  straw-clothed  flask,  revelling  in  types. 

When  Jerry  Uft  Joan  at  Agnes'  door  at  midnight,  he  saw 
that  she  had  been  given  "greatly  to  think."  But  for  the 
moment  she  indulged  in  flippancy. 

"  I  have  a  rule  for  telling  Bohemians  now,  Jerry.  All 
men  with  long  hair  and  all  women  with  short." 


CHAPTER  XII 
AGNES  AND  DOMESTIC  DIFFICULTIES 

Inevitably  Agnes  confided  in  her  sisters.  Both  had  been 
quick  to  read  Godfrey's  indifference,  but  it  had  needed  an 
open  slight  on  his  part  to  divest  Agnes  of  pretense.  Yet  the 
passage  at  arms  had  been  of  the  briefest,  confined  in  fact  to 
a  timid  question  and  a  brusque  rejoinder. 

"  Shall  you  take  me  with  you,  Godfrey  ?  "  and  the  ironical, 
double-edged,  "  I  said  I  was  going  for  pleasure." 

The  phrase  "  for  pleasure  "  was  unmistakably  emphasized 
and  had  its  effect.  He  could  speak  in  exasperation  like  that, 
could  somehow  say  a  bitter,  bleak  thing  without  becoming 
coarse.  He  looked  no  whit  less  the  gentleman  for  his 
cruelty.  And  yet  Joan,  raising  an  eye  in  Agnes'  defense, 
gesturing  her  horror  of  such  brutality,  was  reluctantly 
swerved  to  pity  for  him.  She  saw  the  bright-eyed,  turbulent 
Godfrey  who  had  gambled  with  Fate  on  the  day  that  he 
married  Agnes,  and  she  saw  this  mature  Godfrey,  with  all  a 
man's  knowledge  of  his  own  nature  of  good  and  evil,  believ- 
ing himself  grossly  cheated,  rushing  this  way  and  that  in 
intolerable  boredom,  shrill  with  defeat  and  disappointment. 
And  yet  Agnes  had  done  nothing  more  than  prove  herself 
angelic. 

It  was  another  evening,  several  weeks  later,  and  Godfrey, 
as  was  his  habit  of  late,  had  dined  at  home.  Although  the 
fact  of  Joan's  and  Claire's  relationship  precluded  the  possi- 


ii8  BLIND  WISDOM 

bility  of  flirtation,  their  presence  in  the  house  lent  an  tinusual 
tang  of  interest.  He  was  assiduous  in  keeping  them  sup- 
plied with  flowers  and  bon-bons,  a  veritable  Santa  Claus 
with  his  gifts  and  entertainment.  Agnes,  ignored,  was  nev- 
ertheless relieved  to  have  him  there  on  any  score.  At  first 
she  had  been  in  total  eclipse  from  an  ulcerated  tooth  that  left 
her  more  dank  and  pale  than  ever,  and  she  would  sit,  matched 
to  the  backgp-ound  with  her  interminable  sewing,  watching  in 
lethargy  the  other  three  who  played  in  a  perpetual  bright 
light. 

But  as  her  physical  fitness  was  restored  she  endeavored 
awkwardly  to  participate.  Agnes  reasoned  simply.  Claire 
was  vivacious  and  Claire  was  attractive  to  Godfrey.  There- 
fore she  would  be  vivacious.  But  Agnes  was  built  to  tread 
a  stately  measure,  not  to  whirl  in  the  ballet,  and  showed  her- 
self deplorably  miscast.  Her  heavy  sprightliness  set  God- 
frey to  agitating  his  brows.  Alas,  poor  Agnes,  circling  like 
an  anxious  moth  about  a  bewitching  candle,  was  singed  for 
her  folly. 

They  had  been  discussing  Godfrey's  prospective  hunting 
trip  to  a  game  preserve  in  Canada  when  she  received  her 
luckless  inspiration.  She  bit  off  a  difficult  thread,  girated 
coquettishly  toward  Godfrey,  and  seated  herself  upon  his 
knee.  The  act  was  as  incongruous  as  though  a  nun  so  chose 
to  disport  herself,  and  exasperated  him. 

"  Shall  you  take  me  with  you,  Godfrey?"  was  the  tragic 
love-pleading.  And  then  Godfrey  heartlessly  administering 
the  coup  de  grace ! 

For  a  long  time  the  London  bridge  of  Agnes'  world  had 
been  falling  down;  she  had  been  a  martyr  to  his  growing 
neglect  and  had  borne  herself  like  a  patient  Griselda.  But 
suddenly,  inexplicably,  here  in  the  quiet  evening,  with  her 
sisters  beside  her  and  her  children  sleeping  above,  something 
in  her  snapped  beneath  the  strain.    The  camel's  back  was 


AGNES  AND  DOMESTIC  DIFFICULTIES    119 

broken  by  a  straw.  Her  features  slipped,  from  her  control 
and  contorted  terribly,  and  the  cords  in  her  neck  swelled 
with  the  coming  paroxysm.  Godfrey's  shamed  look  alter- 
nately bent  upon  and  escaped  from  that  revealment. 

As  her  sobs  accused  him  he  freed  himself  frantically,  un- 
graciously, from  her  weight  and  left  her  crumpled  in  the 
chair.  Then,  his  face  turned  above  his  shoulder  like  the 
murderer  who  hates  the  helpless  dead  for  its  ultimate  vic- 
tory, who  hates  his  own  contrition,  he  moved  out  into  the 
center  of  the  room.  A  hand  through  his  hair  was  enough 
to  offset  his  otherwise  immaculate  grooming.  He  might 
have  been  anything  now  disagreeable  to  contemplate,  a  wife- 
beater,  ne'er-do-well,  a  drunkard !  The  scene  had  degener- 
ated to  mere  domestic  sordidness,  and  Joan,  susceptible  to 
any  change  of  atmosphere,  felt  a  cold  pang  of  pain.  Oh,  it 
was  terrible  that  unhappiness  had  tricked  them  into  this  sort 
of  vulgarity. 

"  I  say,  don't  for  Heaven's  sake  make  a  mountain  out  of 
a  molehill,"  Godfrey  threw  at  his  wife  while  affecting  to 
address  the  furniture.  He  waved  his  hands  in  plausible 
gestures  that  seemed  to  argue  his  own  case  and  acquit  him. 
"  Don't  I  do  the  best  I  can  for  you  all  ?  Don't  the  children 
have  everything  they  need  ?    Have  I  ever  denied  you  ?  " 

Finding  the  face  of  the  clock  on  the  mantel  he  stared  at 
it  with  personal  animosity. 

"  I'm  m-miserable,"  sobbed  poor  Agnes,  not  deigning  to 
answer  the  pointless  questions.    "  I  wish  I  might  d-d-die." 

"  Oh,  Agnes,  darling,"  protested  both  her  sisters  and  came 
with  hospitable  arms  and  shoulders  ready  to  receive  the 
deluge.  "  Godfrey  didn't  mean  it.  He  couldn't  have  meant 
it.     Whatever  made  you  say  it,  Godfrey  ?  " 

Godfrey,  who  had  been  irritably  rummaging  for  tobacco 
with  a  furtive  eye  on  the  progress  toward  recovery  of  his 
victim,  now  turned  about.    There  was  something  naively 


120  BLIND  WISDOM 

audacious  in  his  face  at  that  moment  which  strongly  sug- 
gested his  little  son's. 

"  How  the  devil  do  you  suppose  I  know  ?  Only  Agnes  is 
forever  suggesting  the  wrong  thing.  If  I  say,  '  I'm  off  on 
a  stag  party,'  she  looks  martyred  and  moans,  *  Won't  you 
take  me  ? '  and  if,  on  the  other  hand,  I'm  in  a  mood  to  be 
sociable  and  suggest,  '  Come  on,  Agnes,  old  girl,  let's  dine 
out  and  see  a  musical  show,'  she's  quite  apt  to  assume  her 
holier-than-thou  expression  and  tell  me  she  neither  approves 
of  restaurants  nor  light  opera.  The  day  the  Lord  made 
Agnes  He  had  run  out  of  tact,"  he  ended  explosively. 

Agnes  let  forth  a  wail  of  woe  that  goaded  Godfrey  to 
diabolical  humor.  He  sang  the  chorus  of  a  popular  song 
called  "  When  the  Honeymoon  Ends,"  with  such  perverted 
genius  that  he  took  his  listeners  unaware,  though  they  de- 
plored the  bad  taste  of  the  demonstration.  Agnes,  not  pos- 
sessing a  sense  of  humor,  was  immune  to  what  had 
touched  Qaire  and  Joan.  She  continued  to  make  regular, 
resigned  soimds  of  lamentation  till  Godfrey's  mood  veered 
abruptly.  He  saw  that  she  was  not  to  be  mollified  by  his 
attempts  to  turn  the  situation  into  a  farce,  and,  manlike, 
he  now  determined  to  make  himself  appear  the  injured 
one. 

"  Very  well,  have  your  way,  pour  out  all  the  tears  in  your 
reservoir.  Maybe  the  rest  of  the  season  will  be  dry."  He 
laughed  bitterly.  "  But  don't  expect  me  to  play  audience. 
Not  after  the  kind  of  day  I've  had."  And,  with  a  few  self- 
righteous  thrusts,  he  left  the  house,  not  neglecting  the  time- 
honored  expedient  of  slamming  the  door. 

Then  it  was  that,  the  barriers  down,  Agnes  made  her  con- 
fession. She  jerked  suddenly  upright  as  the  door  closed 
and  ceased  sobbing,  as  though  in  correlation  with  it  some 
door  had  closed  within  her.  And  the  two  younger  girls, 
who  had  known  the  truth  for  days,  employed  tender  art  to 


AGNES  AND  DOMESTIC  DIFFICULTIES    121 

make  her  believe  that  it  was  revealed  to  them  for  the  first 
time. 

As  Joan  listened,  kneeling  at  Agnes'  feet,  and  pouring 
through  the  hand  that  she  held  a  torrent  of  sympathy,  she 
became  surprised  by  her  pov\^er  of  clairvoyance.  The  bur- 
den of  perception  was  upon  her  when  she  saw  deep  into  the 
natures  of  both  Godfrey  and  Agnes;  the  spiritual  yearning 
for  happiness  and  the  human  limitations  that  kept  them  from 
realizing  it,  and  she  yearned  to  these  human  limitations  just 
as  Rodin,  the  sculptor,  yearned  to  the  grotesque  or  ugly  and 
glorified  it.     But  how  to  aid  them? 

Claire,  the  downright,  spoke  first. 

"  I  understand  how  it  is  with  Godfrey,"  she  announced 
sagely,  and  wiped  away  Agnes'  tears  with  a  sensible  hand; 
"  you've  been  a  mother  to  his  children,  Aggie,  but  never  a 
wife  to  him." 

"  Never  his  wife  ?  "  almost  shrieked  poor  Ag^es.  "  What 
do  you  mean  ?    I  haven't  looked  at  another  man." 

"  Of  course  not,  Goose,  You've  looked  at  Godfrey,  but 
how  have  you  looked  at  him?  As  dispassionately  as  a  cow ! 
You've  chewed  the  cud  of  domesticity  till  he  finds  you  a 
perfect  bromide.  You've  never  given  a  thought  to  captur- 
ing your  husband  and  keeping  him." 

"  But  surely,"  protested  Agnes,  "  one  ought  not  need  to 
use  wiles  after  one  is  married." 

Claire  gave  a  dramatic  laugh  of  scorn. 

"  Oh-ho,  oughtn't  one  ?  You  think  that  marrying's  the 
end  of  the  game,  but  that's  where  you're  wrong,  my  lady. 
I  dare  say  it's  barely  the  beginning.  I  look  about  among  my 
friends  and  I  see  that  the  successful  ones  are  the  clever 
ones,  who  practice  tact  and  adaptability." 

"  But,  granted  that  I  become  more  tactful,  will  it  suffice  to 
change  him  ?  I  know  now  that  he  doesn't  stand  for  what  I 
thought  he  did." 


122  BLIND  WISDOM 

She  looked  appalled  by  what  she  had  said.  Qaire  laughed 
in  spite  of  herself. 

"  No,  he's  as  God  made  him,  and  I  doubt  if  a  woman  ever 
really  changes  a  man.  If  she  cares  enough,  she  is  the  one 
who  conforms.    Now  I  have  a  plan." 

She  balanced  on  her  heels  and  clapped  her  hands  merrily. 

"  What  will  you  give  me  to  make  you  over  ?  " 

Claire  was  an  inveterate  reader  of  light  fiction,  and  at  that 
time  there  was  an  epidemic  of  novels  wherein  the  heroine 
was  metamorphosed  from  an  ugly  duckling  into  a  beauty, 
always  with  the  result  that  love  and  happiness  were  hers. 
And,  trite  as  was  the  idea  she  presented,  it  broke  upon  them 
all  as  inspired  genius. 

"  Oh,  that  would  be  nice,  Agnes ! "  seconded  Joan  lov- 
ingly, for  now  that  Agnes  was  an  "  under  dog,"  she  discov- 
ered in  herself  a  fund  of  tenderness  for  her.  "  And  we'll 
turn  the  pumpkin  into  a  coach  for  you  and  the  white  mice 
into  horses,  and  dress  you  like  a  princess  so  you  can  go  to 
the  king's  ball  and  be  fallen  in  love  with  by  Prince  Godfrey." 

As  she  confided  to  Claire,  she  was  more  concerned  with 
Agnes'  mental  molding  than  her  exterior  development,  but 
Claire  pointed  out  that  clothes  exert  an  influence  of  their 
own  and  that  once  Agnes  found  herself  charmingly  turned 
out  she  would  naturally  become  more  charming  and  tractable 
herself.  They  worked  in  strictest  secret  and  the  days  in  the 
shops  were  such  as  to  delight  the  feminine  heart.  Agnes, 
once  conquered,  lent  herself  to  Claire's  regime  and  was  not 
averse  to  learning  that  she  possessed  a  figure,  that  her  hair, 
dexterously  managed,  softened  almost  to  beauty  her  thin 
face,  that  with  massage  and  patience  wrinkles  may  be  elimi- 
nated, and  various  other  heartening  facts.  There  would  be 
no  point  in  presenting  her,  the  astute  Claire  had  said,  till,  as 
she  expressed  it,  "  the  clothes  sank  in."  So  they  smuggled 
away  the  finery  and,  in  order  that  Godfrey  might  get  no 


AGNES  AND  DOMESTIC  DIFFICULTIES    123 

wind  of  the  conspiracy  afoot,  charged  the  furbelows  to  Mr, 
Wister. 

******** 

The  presentation  was  to  occur  in  conjunction  with  the 
premiere  of  a  new  play  to  which  Jerry  was  taking  them,  and 
even  the  piece  was  judiciously  chosen,  a  sprightly  comedy 
calculated  to  put  Godfrey  in  a  good  humor.  The  three  sis- 
ters were  on  tiptoe  with  expectancy,  and  so  great  was  their 
anxiety  over  the  toilette  of  Agnes  that  neither  could  do 
credit  to  her  own.  Perhaps  neither  desired  to,  perhaps  each 
had  deliberately  designed  herself  for  a  foil,  a  little  sacrifice 
on  the  altar  of  sisterly  love. 

Certainly,  when  they  led  their  creation  forth,  they  were 
self-effacing  as  maids  of  honor  to  a  queen.  Agnes  swept 
into  the  nursery  and  little  Godfrey  drew  back  into  the  corner 
of  his  crib,  paying  her  homage  with  his  starry  eyes.  Her 
step  was  elastic  with  power  as  she  descended  to  where  Jerry 
and  her  husband  were  waiting.  Joan  and  Claire  lagged  at 
the  last  minute,  giving  her  the  benefit  of  the  graceful  setting, 
a  Colonial  stairway.  Godfrey,  hearing  the  swish  of  skirts, 
had  anticipated  Claire,  but  instead  found  himself  gazing  at  a 
strange  woman,  a  kind  of  glorified  Agnes,  an  extreme  con- 
ception, as  it  were,  that  actually  pricked  his  indifference  and 
set  his  blood  flowing.  The  modiste  Claire  had  chosen  had 
taken  into  consideration  Agnes*  lines  and  temperament,  and 
executed  her  dream  in  ivory  satin.  It  molded  itself  upon 
the  limbs,  clinging  and  coiling  when  she  moved,  yet  it  was 
irreproachably  straight  as  a  nun's  robe.  If  a  suggestion  of 
the  cloister  lurked  in  the  flowing  sleeves,  there  was  a  smile 
behind  the  prudery. 

The  blue-gray  eyes  had  taken  on  coquetry  below  the  be- 
coming coiffure,  as  simple  as  the  old  Agnes  could  have  de- 
sired, but  as  knowing  as  it  was  naive. 

The  two  above,  and  Jerry  beside  him,  who  shared  the 


124  BLIND  WISDOM 

secret,  saw  Godfrey  wipe  a  bead  of  perspiration  from  his 
brow,  then  rub  his  eyes  for  a  second  look  at  her.  Mechan- 
ically he  inserted  a  finger  between  his  collar  and  his  neck,  as 
though  seeking  greater  latitude. 

"  Good-evening,  Jerry.    Have  I  kept  you  boys  waiting?" 

Her  manner  was  as  guileless  as  a  May  day. 

"  That  was  well  done,"  whispered  Claire  to  Joan.  "  If 
we  can  only  make  her  go  through  with  it " 

Godfrey,  as  the  French  say,  was  "  put  against  the  wall." 
It  was  contrary  to  his  pride  and  principle  to  acknowledge 
how  bowled  over  he  felt,  yet  it  would  be  absurd  to  profess 
no  astonishment. 

"  What's  going  on,  anyway  ?  "  he  managed  a  proper  mix- 
ture of  amusement  and  tmconcem.  "  Trying  to  give  me  a 
good  time?  Claire,  I  believe  I  recognize  your  handi- 
work." 

No  one  answered,  and  as  Agnes  sailed  by  him  he  caught 
the  least,  elusive  fragrance  of  jasmin  that  set  his  nerves 
tingling. 

"  Great  God,  here's  Aggie  dressed  like  a  tragedy  queen 
and  all  of  you  expecting  me  to  swallow  it  as  though  it  were 
the  usual  thing.  I  don't  understand  the  idea,  but  I  grant  you 
it's  a  howling  success." 

"Hush,"  cooed  Agnes,  "don't  be  so  boisterous,  dear," 
and  so  naturally  she  spoke  that  he  was  all  but  deceived! 
"  Surely  I  can  wear  a  new  gown  without  creating  a  riot. 
You  are  not  very  clever  to  let  Jerry  know  how  seldom  I 
have  one." 

"  Jerry  knows,"  mumbled  Godfrey,  "  that  you're  your  own 
economist.  I'd  say  *  go  ahead  *  any  time  you  wanted  to  look 
like  that." 

The  other  two  had  come  into  the  midst  of  her  triumph  and 
were  enjoying  the  fruits  of  their  labor  when  Joan  suddenly 
exclaimed,  "  Here's  a  letter  from  home,  Claire.     Shall  we 


AGNES  AND  DOMESTIC  DIFFICULTIES    125 

dip  in  ?  "  and  she  tore  open  the  envelope  inscribed  in  her 
mother's  fine,  flowing  hand. 

"  Not  bad  news,  I  hope  ? "  Agnes  presently  interrupted, 
seeing  their  faces  pass  beneath  a  cloud.  "  Is  Father  all 
right?" 

"  Everything's  all  right,"  they  chimed  tunelessly  in  unison, 
not  wishing  to  overshadow  the  evening,  but  their  eyes  were 
anxiously  weighing  the  lines  that  seemed  heavy  with  omen. 

"  The  milliner's  and  dressmakers'  bills  came  this  morn- 
ing," ran  the  letter,  "  and  ordinarily  they  would  not  have 
mattered,  but  for  some  days  past  your  father  has  been 
brooding  over  mysterious  losses  the  nature  of  which  he  does 
not  see  fit  to  disclose.  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  he  has 
ordered  Thomas  to  advertise  the  car  for  sale,  and  has  an- 
nounced that  he  will  have  to  cut  down  our  living  allowance 
as  well.  Poor  darlings,  I  realize  this  is  hard  on  you  at  a 
time  when  you  need  more  than  you  will  ever  need  again. 
However,  let  us  be  patient  and  believe  that  these  are  only 
temporary  privations."  There  followed  a  brave  attempt  at 
local  news  and  the  letter  ended  with  the  assurance  that  they 
might  stay  as  long  as  they  liked,  she  hoped  that  they  were 
happy  every  day,  and  she  was  ever  their  loving  mother. 

Claire  was,  as  usual,  the  first  to  recover.  Claire  was  like 
those  highly  satisfactory  roly-polys  that  rebound  quickly 
after  they  have  been  tipped  to  earth.  She  sounded  a  little 
laugh  as  the  key-note  for  Joan's  behavior,  and  looked  bril- 
liantly about  at  the  members  of  the  group,  now  donning 
coats  and  wraps. 

"  Bring  on  the  sea-going  taxis,'*  she  said  in  her  pretty 
managing  way.    "  No,  Godfrey,  you  cannot  take  your  wife." 

"  But,  Claire,"  whispered  Agnes,  nearly  undone  by  God- 
frey's unwonted  attentions,  "  why  mayn't  he  ?  " 

"  Because  he  must  be  made  to  sit  up  and  beg  for  days  and 
days  and  days,"  whispered  back  Claire  vengefully.    Then, 


126  "    BLIND  WISDOM 

aloud,  "  Jerry,  it  will  be  your  pleasure  and  privilege  to  escort 
Madame.  Come,  Godfrey,  see  to  your  little  in-laws,"  and 
in  the  general  laughter  they  brushed  out  into  the  cold. 

The  curtain  was  rising  on  the  first  act  when  they  filed  into 
their  box,  and  in  the  obscure  business  of  becoming  settled 
several  minutes  had  elapsed  before  the  scene  and  the  actors 
received  due  regard.  Claire  had  been  given  the  seat  nearest 
the  stage;  in  fact,  as  the  lower  boxes  were  hung,  she  was 
scarcely  a  yard  from  the  footlights.  In  the  artificial  twi- 
light she  remained  dimly  luminous.  Her  beauty  was  more 
obvious  than  Joan's,  and  she  was  the  sort  of  woman  that 
men  very  definitely  see.  One  sensed  Joan's  beauty  before 
the  actual  discovery,  like  looking  under  its  leaves  for  a 
violet.  It  is  possible  that  simultaneously  with  recognition 
of  the  young  actor  usurping  the  role  of  hero,  Claire  was  in 
turn  seen,  if  not  actually  recognized  by  him. 

It  may  be  that  with  practice  one  can  sit  smoking  behind 
the  footlights,  ostensibly  staring  into  space,  yet  perfectly 
cognizant  of  loveliness  at  the  edge  of  one's  circle  of  vision. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  Qaire  certainly  felt  a  little  shiver  of  ex- 
citement that  began  with  her  toes  and  tingled  up  to  her  head. 

"  Joan,"  she  whispered  excitedly,  "  isn't  he,  isn't  he  very 
familiar  ?    Where  have  we  seen  him  before  ?  " 

Joan  demurred  conscientiously. 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say  he's  just  one  of  a  t3^e  ?  '* 

"  No,"  persisted  Claire  doggedly,  "  he  reminds  me  only  of 
himself." 

And  suddenly  a  little  pulse  began  beating  like  a  hammer 
in  her  throat.  "  I  have  it,  Joan.  He's  old  Mrs.  Cornwall's 
nephew.  Don't  you  recall  the  one  she  brought  to  our  house 
years  ago  ?  "  and  she  verified  the  surmise  by  her  program. 
The  information  was  made  general  and  provoked  lively  in- 
terest and  satisfaction,  especially  as  young  Rutherford  di- 
rected more  than  one  glance  at  their  box. 


AGNES  AND  DOMESTIC  DIFFICULTIES    127 

"  He  certainly  recognizes  you,"  Joan  exclaimed  between 
the  second  and  third  acts ;  "  don't  you  think  so,  Jerry  ?  " 

"  Oh,  undoubtedly,"  returned  Jerry  enigmatically,  "  he 
may  recognize  her  without  knowing  that  he  has  ever  seen 
her  before." 

"  That  is  absurd,"  returned  Claire  almost  coldly,  but  be- 
fore she  had  finished  speaking  a  flush  arose  in  her  cheeks  to 
give  the  words  the  lie.  Her  woman's  intuition  told  her  that 
across  the  void  the  man  who  had  held  spellbound  the  dreams 
of  her  girlhood  was  again  signalling  warmly, 

"  We'll  ask  him  to  meet  us  for  supper,  and  decide  this 
once  and  for  all,"  suggested  Jerry,  who  was  always  unex- 
pected.    "  He's  a  friend  of  mine." 

"  There !  "  cried  Joan  in  delight.  "  I  told  you  Jerry  is  a 
wizard,  Claire.  He  carries  magic  in  his  pocket.  Oh,  Jerry, 
Claire  could  kiss  you  for  that." 

"  An  actor  ?  "  Agnes  lifted  a  faint  protest,  but  it  was  her 
discarded  self  that  spoke  and  her  scruples  died  prematurely. 
She  had  the  gratification  of  knowing  that  Godfrey  had  been 
intrigued  by  her  all  the  evening.  Once  he  had  adjusted  her 
wrap  across  her  shoulders  and  once  he  had  retrieved  her 
glove  from  the  floor.  A  golden  evening,  certainly,  for  after 
the  young  actor  had  received  Jerry's  note  he  succeeded  in 
making  his  recognition  evident.  By  an  usher  he  sent  his 
reply,  scrawled  in  a  black,  "  characteristic  "  hand. 

"Dear  Callendar: — (he  said) 

"  I  do  remember,  and  I  shall  join  you  with  great 
pleasure  as  soon  as  I  can  remove  the  marks  of  my  trade. 

"  Rutherford." 

Just  what  he  said  to  Claire  and  just  what  Claire  said  to 
him  during  that  hour  in  the  cafe  would  no  doubt  be  valueless 
if  reported.  Possibly  their  conversation  was  as  devoid  of 
weight  as  it  had  been  that  day  in  Mrs.  Wister's  sun-parlor. 


128  BLIND  WISDOM 

years  ago.  But  in  the  gfame  that  they  played  one  conceived 
of  their  spirits  as  poising  and  retreating,  pursuer  and  pur- 
sued, like  Greek  figures  on  an  urn. 

"A  decent  sort  of  chap,"  was  Jerry's  resume  to  Joan, 
"  devilishly  attractive  to  women  and  naturally  a  bit  spoiled 
by  them,  but  winning  and  magnetic — in  short,  an  actor. 
That  is  what  I  think.  Later  you  may  tell  me  if  I  am 
wrong." 

It  was  past  midnight  when  Godfrey  took  the  three  girls 
home,  a  somewhat  chastened  and  subdued  Godfrey.  To 
Jerry  he  had  made  a  boyish  confession  that  came  from  his 
heart. 

"  Darned  if  I  haven't  enjoyed  myself !  " 

Agnes  was  standing  before  her  mirror  when  Godfrey 
entered  from  his  rounds  of  locking  up.  She  was  still  in  her 
shining  gown,  and  as  she  lifted  her  arms  to  unfasten  it  she 
hummed  happily  the  song  that  had  been  interwoven  in  the 
play.  He  stood  awkwardly  watching  her,  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life  experiencing  toward  her  a  real  emotion.  A  poet 
speaks  of  the  dawn  of  love  as  a  time  "  of  astonishment  in 
hand  and  shoulder."  Hitherto  Godfrey  had  never  known 
that  sweet  dismay  and  panic  in  the  presence  of  his  lady. 
The  nearest  to  allegiance  he  had  ever  come  was  by  dint  of 
reason.  "  I  ought  to  admire  her,"  he  had  insisted  to  himself 
time  and  again.  "  She  is  admirable,  she  is  true !  "  And  in 
the  sufferings  of  childbirth  he  had  beheld  her  magnificent 
and  had  thought,  "  I'm  not  worthy  of  this  woman."  Yet, 
curiously  enough,  now  when  reason  was  dead  within  him  he 
felt  momentarily  something  akin  to  love.  How  was  it  pos- 
sible that  a  mere  gown  had  wrought  such  miracles?  Yet, 
had  he  been  wise,  he  would  have  known  that  it  was  not 
really  the  gown,  it  was  the  something  Agnes  had  put  on 
with  it.  Whatever  disillusion  and  breakdown  was  to  come 
after,  she  had  indeed  enjoyed  her  triumph. 


AGNES  AND  DOMESTIC  DIEFICULTIES    129 

"Agnes,"  he  said  huskily,  "you've  been  wonderful  to- 
night. By  Jove,  I  didn't  know  you  could  be  like  this,  It 
makes  me  sorry  for  the  trial  I  am  to  you." 

He  was  like  a  boy  with  his  first  love,  crimson  to  his  ears. 
He  stood  behind  her  and  she  felt  his  hot  breath  on  her 
shoulder,  and  all  her  hungry  heart  longed  for  him.  She  was 
no  actress,  totally  transparent  and  direct,  and  her  instinct  was 
to  capitulate  at  once.  How  long  she  would  be  able  to  hold 
out  she  did  not  know.  A  tremor  ran  through  her.  For  a 
moment  she  looked  as  if  she  would  burst  into  tears.  Then, 
through  the  unfamiliar  emotion,  she  seemed  to  hear  Claire's 
stern  voice  dictating  its  heroic  measures. 

Godfrey  was  so  close  now  that  she  sensed  his  intention. 
In  a  moment  he  would  have  kissed  her,  would  have  kissed 
her,  Agnes  Blunt,  as  though  she  were  his  sweetheart,  not  his 
wife.  In  that  second  she  seemed  to  realize  the  eternity  of 
her  loveless  days.     She  clinched  her  thin  hands  to  control ! 

"  Don't  be  ridiculous,"  she  drawled ;  "  you'll  step  on  my 
train." 


CHAPTER  XIII 
AN  AUDACIOUS  PRINCE 

The  night  had  chosen  for  itself  two  colors,  gray  and 
black,  or  rather  the  gradations  of  the  single  color  black,  but 
it  achieved  within  this  scope  an  infinite  variety.  Tall,  arbi- 
trary buildings  were  bitten  deep  against  the  faintly  luminous 
sky  that  was  swept  and  arched  from  east  to  west  like  a  huge 
inverted  cup.  The  streets  were  built  up  of  a  sombre  but  deli- 
cate etching,  the  lights  appearing  like  false  gems  in  a  too- 
fine  setting. 

The  closed  touring  car  which  was  conveying  the  three 
sisters  and  Godfrey  out  to  Berton  seemed  a  flat,  sly  thing 
beneath  this  preponderance  of  sky  and  cosmos.  With  belly 
to  the  earth  it  adhered  to  the  single  purpose  of  its  own  de- 
sire. One  would  have  said  as  it  sped  north  that  it  was  avid 
for  the  white  lady-star  drooping  above  the  horizon. 

In  reality  the  destination  was  a  prosaic  one,  the  house  of 
a  wealthy  merchant  of  Mr.  Blunt's  parish,  with  one  foot  on 
the  social  ladder  and  the  other  in  the  pork  barrel.  The 
faithful  comrade,  Jerry,  had  withdrawn  for  almost  the  first 
time  since  the  younger  girls*  advent  in  town,  not  seeing  him- 
self as  a  part  of  the  evening's  program.  Yet,  although  she 
missed  him,  Joan  for  some  reason  was  tasting  a  keen  excite- 
ment, not  any  specific  happiness  that  she  could  have  named 
— just  "  hunches  "  that  the  night  loomed  large  with  enjoy- 
ment. She  had  "  cozy  feelings  inside,"  as  she  confided  to 
Claire  on  the  way  out.  "  I  feel  as  though  the  air  is  as  full 
of  music  as  the  sky  is  full  of  stars."' 


AN  AUDACIOUS  PRINCE  131 

"  But  the  sky  isn't  full  of  stars,"  pointed  out  Oaire  liter- 
ally. 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  is,  only  you  can't  see  them.  And  you  can't 
hear  the  music  either.     But  they  are  both  there." 

Agnes,  beside  them,  still  voguishly  attired  as  a  precaution- 
ary measure,  attended  fawningly  upon  her  husband,  very 
rarely  addressing  any  conversation  to  her  sisters  or  listening 
when  they  spoke.  Gk)dfrey  occupied  a  jump-seat  and  piv- 
oted about  at  intervals  to  foster  the  impression  that  his 
mood  was  as  agreeably  adjustable.  Underneath  this  studied 
exterior,  however,  Joan  had  noted  that  his  exuberance  was 
ebbing. 

The  estate  of  the  pork  merchant  was  an  hour's  ride  from 
New  York,  and  on  a  section  de  luxe  of  the  Sound  known  as 
the  "  gold  coast,"  for  obvious  reasons.  At  the  moment  of 
their  arrival  lights  already  effervesced  from  windows  and 
doors,  warming  the  November  pallor  of  the  park,  while  the 
motors  curving  through  the  drive  darted  brilliant  glances 
this  way  and  that,  before  they  halted  panting  at  the  porte- 
cochere. 

The  persuasion  of  a  violin  stole  out  prematurely  as  the 
silver  and  gold  slippers  twinkled  down  from  the  motor,  and 
Joan  sighed  gustily.  At  home,  in  Crannsford,  all  such  af- 
fairs were  consummated  at  Dill's  Dancing  Academy,  with 
the  minimum  of  display.  She  had  never,  not  even  abroad, 
attended  a  ball  of  such  pretensions,  where  men-servants  in 
braided  livery  opened  the  door  and  stood  like  exclamation 
points  through  all  the  lower  regions.  Her  unjaded  anticipa- 
tion made  her  a  lovely  and  lovable  object. 

In  the  dressing-room  up-stairs  a  myriad  candles  were 
shrouded  in  amber  silk,  and  the  exhalations  of  the  chamber 
were  delicately  voluptuous.  Here  stout  dowagers,  who 
would  wax  serenely  charming  below,  were  now  in  the  throes 
of  keen,  almost  savage  anxiety.    One  of  them,  who  seemed 


132  BLIND  WISDOM 

to  be  a  woman  with  a  great  many  elbows,  was  jerking  her 
way  about  and  whimpering  because  the  powder  on  her  back 
failed  to  disguise  a  blemish.  A  couple  of  very  pretty,  self- 
effacing  maids  were  attending  upon  these  ladies  with  dexter- 
ous touches  and  placating  words.  One  remarked  that  by 
nature  they  were  themselves  eminently  fitted  to  trip  the  light 
fantastics,  but  class  distinction,  like  a  traffic  policeman,  held 
a  large  gloved  hand  in  the  way.  Later,  when  "  their  bet- 
ters "  had  cascaded  to  the  rooms  below,  they  would  chat 
freely,  criticize  the  guests,  and  take  secret  steps  to  the  music. 
In  that  feminine  bower  Joan  saw  amusing  phenomena. 
Here  all  the  business  of  make-up  was  accomplished  with 
delicate  glamour,  the  very  appurtenances  of  the  room  play- 
ing "  sedulous  ape  "  to  Vanity  Fair.  One  curved  a  lip,  an- 
other set  her  cheek  to  blooming,  and  yet  another  shaped  her 
eyebrows  to  the  expression  of  curiosity.  And  ever  through 
the  high  chatter  ran  the  silken  thread  of  that  unruly  violin 
that  would  play  truant  from  its  fellows.  "  Come  down,"  it 
seemed  to  cry.  "  The  night  is  young,  but  each  moment 
aging.  Come  down  and  seize  the  golden  hour  before  it 
passes ! " 

Joan,  herself,  growing  at  a  time  of  evaporating  scruples, 
had  yet  escaped  the  mania  for  kalsomine,  and  though  the 
girls  among  whom  she  moved  eclipsed  her  at  a  glance,  later 
she  was  bound  to  triumph  by  her  piquancy  and  truth.  She 
had  never  held  the  popular  conception  of  a  dance.  To  her 
it  was  a  highly  mystic  affair,  compound  of  music  and  merri- 
ment, a  weaving  of  plot  and  counterplot,  tragedy  and 
comedy. 

Old  Mr,  Gordon  possessed  one  daughter,  the  kind  who 
did  not  scorn  to  arrange  his  necktie  before  a  public  appear- 
ance, and  it  was  to  this  daughter  that  the  evening  was  dedi- 
cated. The  old  financier  had  fortified  himself  for  the 
occasion  with  considerable  spiritus  fermenti,  so  that  he  was 


AN  AUDACIOUS  PRINCE  133 

now  nearly  as  pink  as  Marybelle's  frock  (and  Marybelle,  by 
the  way,  was  pink  as  a  peppermint),  and  he  stood  in  the 
midst  of  his  oh  jets  d'art,  happily  unhampered  by  any  knowl- 
edge of  their  intrinsic  value,  bland  and  ruddy,  spiced  and 
sweetened  with  hospitality  like  one  of  his  own  sugar-cured 
hams. 

Marybelle,  the  bud,  was,  in  fact,  so  full  blown  that  she 
encouraged  one  to  believe  that  if  she  had  not  been  long 
"  out  "  she  had  at  least  grown  in  a  southern  exposure.  With 
her  familiars,  greeting  her  effusively,  she  bandied  hearty 
sentiments.  Through  the  drawing-rooms,  as  more  and  more 
guests  arrived,  the  word  "  Marybelle " — accent  on  the 
"  Belle," — was  rung  with  infinite  changes. 

"  That's  an  original  name !  "  remarked  the  elderly  dancing 
man  who  presently  took  Joan  into  custody.  "  Can't  remem- 
ber that  I've  ever  heard  it  before.     Do  you  care  for  it  ?  " 

"  N-no,"  answered  Joan  truthfully,  as  they  swung  out,  "  I 
don't  like  any  name  with  a  bell  attachment,"  And  while  he 
was  smiling  at  her  precocity  her  eyes  wandered  about  the 
beautiful,  cream-colored  walls  with  panels  high  up,  depicting 
nymphs  and  satyrs  at  play.  "  Oh,  isn't  this  Heaven  ?  "  she 
breathed  across  his  thin  shoulder.  "  I  must  tell  Jerry  what 
a  good  time  my  feet  had  at  the  party,  and,  oh,  yes,  how  you 
couldn't  see  the  musicians !  "  And  after  a  little  she  confided 
further,  "  That's  what  I  like,  that  the  violin  and  guitar 
should  each  have  its  own  individuality.  Out  in  Crannsford 
we  have  an  orchestra  of  four  pieces  and  the  musicians  look 
like  four  mongrel  dogs.  The  lovely  violin  is  all  mixed  up  in 
my  mind  with  tufty  whiskers  and  a  bald  head.  But  here," 
and  she  sighed  rapturously,  "  here  it  becomes  a — voice !  " 

Soon  other  men  cut  in  and  she  was  bandied  from  partner 
to  partner  till  she  felt  like  a  brightly  colored  ball  that  was 
being  whirled  about  in  a  child's  game. 

"  How  can  I  remember  your  names  ?  "  she  laughed  when 


134  BLIND  WISDOM 

she  found  herself  queening  it  over  four  young  men  in  a  re- 
cess with  the  claret  bowl.  "  I'll  call  you  '  Mr.  Tall/  '  Mr. 
Short/  '  Mr.  Broad '  and  *  Mr.  Lean/  "  a  decision  that  was 
hailed  with  enthusiasm. 

"  And  what  will  you  call  me  ?  "  asked  the  pleasant,  lei- 
surely voice  of  a  newcomer  who  had  just  been  presented. 
As  the  music  recommenced  he  drew  her  out  upon  the  lus- 
trous floor  as  the  lodestone  draws  the  helpless  steel. 

"  You  ?  "  Joan  hesitated  merrily,  a  flashing  glance  up- 
ward convincing  her  that  here  was  one  to  defy  classification. 

"  That's  hardly  fair,  perhaps/'  her  partner  consoled  her 
for  inaptitude.  "  But  at  any  rate  the  privilege  is  not  con- 
fined to  you.  I  too  can  call  names,  and  I  am  sure  I  could 
think  of  a  very  delightful  one  to  give  you." 

"  Could  you  ?  "  she  stammered,  feeling  that  the  world  was 
revolving  rather  fast  just  then.  "  I  must  persuade  you  to 
tell  me.  If  it  is  an  especially  good  one  perhaps  it  will  stick, 
and  I've  always  been  hoping  for  a  nickname." 

Prince  Charming  laughed  musically. 

"  But  suppose  I  should  insist,  after  further  acquaintance, 
upon  keeping  it  for  my  very  own  ?  Surely  I  should  have  a 
clear  title  to  my  own  invention,  don't  you  think?" 

"  The  monopoly,  you  mean  ?  Well,  perhaps,  but  do  tell 
me.  I'm  all  curiosity.  It's  like  snatching  a  gift  from  a 
grab-bag/' 

They  glided  smoothly  through  the  subtle  steps  of  a  new 
dance,  scarcely  realizing  the  perfection  of  their  attainment. 

**I  think  I'd  call  you  *  Twinkletoes/ "  offered  the  man 
warmly,  and  Joan  exclaimed  in  obvious  delight: 

"  Because  my  shoes  are  silver !  " 

"  N-no,  not  exactly,"  he  amended,  "  but  because  you  have 
truly  dancing  feet." 

Jerry  would  have  said,  "  Because  your  feet  shine,"  but  the 
stranger,  if  lacking  Jerry's  pronounced  whimsicality,  pos- 


AN  AUDACIOUS  PRINCE  135 

sessed  a  more  personal  voice  than  Jerry's.  It  seemed  to  be 
made  of  chiming  tones  and  warm  colors,  and  was  of  so  per- 
suasive a  quality  that  it  made  one's  head  swim.  It  gradu- 
ally dawned  upon  them  both  that  their  performance  was  ex- 
traordinary, and  they  danced  with  greater  consciousness. 
When  others  came  to  cut  in  he  eluded  them  skillfully  or  held 
her  firm  with  a  protective  and  chivalrous  arm.  His  quiet 
devotion  seemed  to  say,  "  We  came  into  the  world  dancing 
together,  and  we  shall  go  on  dancing  to  the  end  of  our  days." 

Joan  lost  touch  with  time  in  this  new  poetry  of  motion 
and  emotion.  It  seemed  that  neither  their  feet  nor  their 
bodies  were  capable  of  discord;  both  were  flawless.  All 
about  them  the  walls,  peopled  with  faces,  blurred  indistin- 
guishably  and  became  part  of  the  atmosphere  that  they  cut 
in  passing.  At  length  without  a  word  her  partner  flashed 
them  through  a  glass  door  into  a  sun-parlor  "  far  from  the 
madding  crowd."  Some  young  decorator  had  played  with 
the  possibilities  of  the  place,  his  mad  genius  rampant  through 
black  and  white  and  jade.  But  the  wholesome  scent  of 
earth  was  real  and  redeemed  such  mechanics.  Pierrot  faced 
her  squarely,  touched  either  wrist,  yet  was  wisely  gentle  in 
his  impudence. 

"  Let  me  look  at  you,  Twinkletoes,"  he  plead  softly,  and 
while  his  boyishly  intimate  eyes  were  busy  in  the  process  his 
light  touch  was  still  on  her  wrists.  It  was  as  though  his 
right  hand  scarcely  knew  what  his  left  hand  was  doing. 

Joan,  laughing,  essayed  to  gaze  back,  but  could  not  brave 
his  look  even  at  that  early  stage.  Her  color  fluctuated ;  she 
was  the  virgin  mirror  that  is  breathed  upon  for  the  first  time. 
This  boy-man  was  tall  and  lithe  as  Narcissus,  with  beguiling 
manners  and  temperament.  He  had  a  gift  of  becoming 
wholly  absorbed  in  whatever  or  whomever  interested  him, 
a  naive  preoccupation  with  such.  Never  was  he  the  man 
for  crowds.    He  unconsciously  compelled  the  personal  ele- 


136  BLIND  WISDOM 

ment,  whenever  he   felt  sufficiently  interested  to   do  so, 
finding  himself  most  at  home  in  it.     He  must  be  alone  witli^ 
man,  woman  or  child  before  his  magnetism  would  func- 
tion. 

At  length  Joan's  eyes  confirmed  what  her  heart  already 
sensed,  that  he  was  outrageously  attractive.  That  first  pic- 
ture of  him  became  indelibly  stamped  upon  her  mental 
retina.  His  head  was  of  thoroughbred  fineness,  aristocratic 
in  feature,  the  mouth  frankly  sensuous,  the  chin  bearing  an 
impetuous  mark.  For  sheer  physical,  masculine  beauty,  she, 
poor  child,  had  never  known  his  equal. 

"  So,"  he  said  with  sweetness,  "  to  see  is  to  believe !  I  did 
better  than  I  knew  when  I  applied  '  Twinkletoes.'  But  it 
might  be  well  to  know  your  real  name,  which  I  seem  to  have 
forgotten,  so  that  I  may  flourish  it  properly  when  the  proper 

occasion    arises "     He    broke    off    in    comic    dismay. 

"  Good  Lord,  don't,  I  beg  of  you,  tell  me  it  is  Mrs.  Some- 
thing-or-Other.    One  can  never  be  certain  nowadays." 

She  shook  her  head  gaily. 

"  No,  I'm  still  Joan  Wister,  and  I  came  with  the  Blunts." 

"  A  sort  of  a  relation,  I  dare  say  ?  " 

She  nodded  brightly. 

"  A  sort  of  a  sister.  Oh,  look,  there's  Mrs.  Blunt,  Senior, 
now,  the  one  with  dinghoppers  in  her  hair ** 

"I  beg  pardon?" 

"  Butterflies  or  bow-knots  or  birds,  I  forget  which.  She 
always  wears  them.  I  remember  she  did  when  Godfrey 
Blunt  married  my  sister  Agnes." 

They  had  seated  themselves  by  common  consent  on  a  mar- 
ble bench  where  they  could  glimpse  the  dance-hall  through 
the  door. 

"  One  is  almost  tempted  to  wonder,"  observed  he,  "  why 
Godfrey  did  not  marry  you!"  And  under  his  breath  he 
added,  "  I  should  have." 


AN  AUDACIOUS  PRINCE  137 

Oh,  now  the  world  was  whirling  indeed!  She  laughed 
along  an  uncertain  scale,  her  fingers  embracing  a  satin-clad 
knee  for  moral  support. 

"  And  the  answer  would  be,  '  For  lots  of  reasons.  He 
preferred  Agnes,  and  then,  of  course,  I  wasn't  ripe  to  be 
plucked.'  I  was  just  a  little  green  apple  hanging  on  the 
family  tree." 

"  While  now,"  he  began  flippantly,  but  was  warned  from 
taking  too  great  liberties  with  her  delicate  sensibilities.  In- 
wardly he  was  calling  her  a  pink-cheeked,  perfect  fruit  and 
envying  the  harvester. 

Thereupon  they  went  back  for  another  dance,  another, 
and  yet  another,  but  ever  they  returned  to  the  fountain,  and 
when  they  found  others  sharing  their  retreat  he  discomfited 
them  away  like  a  sullen,  love-lorn  boy.  They  sat  beside  a 
secret  pool  and  the  reflection  of  her  white  pearled  frock 
shimmered  like  moonlight  on  the  water.  Against  the  youth- 
ful white  of  her  neck  and  shoulders  her  hair  coiled  in  dusky 
mystery.  Though  he  was  never  obtrusively  close,  she  sensed 
his  nearness  through  every  fibre  of  her  being,  the  knowledge 
setting  up  a  quick  palpitation.  She  could  not  remember  ever 
before  having  been  aware  of  a  man  as  a  man  nor  of  herself 
as  an  essentially  feminine  being.  Jerry  had  stood  for  wis- 
dom, for  comfort  and  the  blessed  harbor  of  friendship ;  she 
could  have  gone  to  him  unabashed  in  any  dilemma,  certain 
of  his  fond  faithfulness. 

But  this  was  different.  This  was  what  it  meant  to  be  a 
woman,  an  instrument  exquisitely  attuned  to  mysterious 
vibrations.  Deep  in  the  blue-lined  fountain  a  couple  of 
fishes  were  cutting  this  way  and  that  in  slow  convolutions, 
revealing  now  a  flash  of  scarlet,  now  a  cool  note  of  silver,  or 
the  opulence  of  pure  gold.  Water  trickled  from  the  cornu- 
copia of  a  bronze  cupid  whose  smile  was  obliterated  by  rust. 
On  the  bright  surface  of  the  water  floated  exotic  lilies,  here 


138  BLIND  WISDOM 

in  the  heart  of  November  dreaming  themselves  beneath* 
tropic  skies.    The  two  reacted  Uke  lotus  eaters. 

The  man  glanced  from  her  knee  to  her  silver  toes,  demure 
beside  his  patent  leathers,  and  remarked  irrepressibly : 

"  They  are  saying  that  they  danced  together  centuries  ago, 
Twinkletoes.  Perhaps  they  are  wiser  than  we  and  remem- 
ber all  about  it.  You  can  see  at  a  glance  that  they've  met 
before.  Where  shall  we  begin  ?  "  he  went  on  with  growing 
emotion. 

A  brown,  exploring  hand  discovered  her  interlaced  fingers 
and  found  them  treasures  of  incalculable  worth.  There 
was  no  gainsaying  him,  and  in  truth  her  desire  to  do  so  was 
not  strong.  Would  one  wave  away  the  fairy  prince  of  a 
lifetime  after  he  had  revealed  himself  as  such? 

Having  consolidated  that  gain,  he  allowed  his  inclination 
to  sweep  him  further. 

"  Didn't  you  know  I  was  waiting?  " 

Joan  threw  pebbles  at  the  goldfishes  and  tried  not  to  look 
as  taken-by-storm  as  she  felt.  She  wished  pathetically  that 
she  could  cope  with  such  a  situation  as  other  girls  were  able 
to  do,  but  hers  was  a  fineness  of  graining  bound  to  protest 
against  anything  which  savored  of  promiscuous  flirta- 
tion. 

"  You're  altogether  absurd,  of  course,"  she  answered, 
flushing  a  deep,  lovely  color  while  she  endeavored  to  make 
her  voice  sound  casual.  "  Perhaps,"  she  challenged,  "  this  is 
the  modern  school  of  conversation  and  I'm  not  educated  up 
to  it.     I'm  afraid  I — I  don't  know  how  to  play." 

The  eloquent  hand  went  home  to  its  owner  in  fine,  of- 
fended pride  and  the  little  knee  was  suddenly  quite  chill  and 
alone. 

"  It  isn't  any  school  of  conversation  at  all,  I  assure  you. 
It  only  means  that  you  are  winsome  and  bewitching  and  all 
the  other  distracting  things,  and,  naturally,  I  like  to  tell 


AN  AUDACIOUS  PRINCE  139 

you  so.  Of  course,  if  you  insist  upon  it,"  he  went  on  with 
a  rueful  laugh,  "  we  can  follow  the  conventional  path.  I 
will  call  and  converse  with  your  mother  for  a  dozen  after- 
noons, and  you  will  show  me  photographs  in  albums  and  we 
will  discuss  life  earnestly.  Then,  some  day,  the  prelimi- 
naries over,  we  will  rush  out  into  the  sunshine  and  say  the 
things  we've  been  thinking  and  feeling  all  that  tiresome  time, 
only  they  will  be  a  bit  frayed  from  long-keeping.  Would 
that  be  better  than  saying  them  now  where  only  the  gold- 
fishes can  hear  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  very  boy,"  she  remonstrated,  laughing  in  justice 
to  the  truth  of  his  picture,  the  incipient  mother  in  her  para- 
mount. He  was  such  an  irresistible  that  she  wanted,  for 
one  dangerous  moment,  to  draw  that  dark  head  into  her  lap 
and  run  her  fingers  through  the  thick  hair.  In  a  more  in- 
dulgent tone  she  said: 

"  You  might  concede  at  least  one  convention.  I  don't 
even  know  your  name,  and  I'm  frightened  to  death  that  it 
may  be  Adolph  or  Archibald  or  something  that  will  throw 
you  entirely  out  of  drawing." 

"  No,"  he  cried  boastfully,  "  my  name  is  supposed  to 
match." 

"  Let  me  hazard  a  guess,  then.  David,  or  Paul.  Both 
names  are  dark  and " 

"  No,  I'm  sorry  to  disappoint  you,  but  it  is  neither.  It's 
Bret,  the  only  name  my  parents  gave  me,  so  please  try  to 
like  it.  My  other  name's  Ballou.  Bret  Ballou,  profoundly 
at  your  service !  " 

She  clapped  her  hands. 

"  Oh,  that's  far  beyond  my  expectations,"  and  she  quoted, 
*'  *  with  a  name  like  that,  you  might  be  any  shape  almost.' 
And  anything  might  happen  to  you !  " 

"  You're  right.  Almost  everything  has."  The  voice  was 
at  least  thought  cynical. 


140  BLIND  WISDOM 

"  I  dare  say  something  is  happening  to  me  at  this  moment. 
Can  you  imagine  what  it  is,  Twinkletoes  ?  " 

On  the  daring  revealment  came  the  seductive  strains  of 
the  next  waltz,  a  minghng  of  truth  and  trickery.  He  had 
caressed  her  Uttle  hard-won  hand  with  just  the  right  ad- 
mixture of  desire  and  renunciation,  he  had  argued  the 
fingers  to  submission,  but  suddenly  they  rebelled  and  with- 
drew utterly.  Although  neither  realized  as  much,  New 
England  looked  from  her  eyes  at  that  moment,  the  spirit  of 
the  Morrow  ancestry  shaking  a  stern  forefinger  at  him. 

She  rose  precipitately. 

"  Oh,  please,  Mr.  Ballou.  I  don't  think  it  can  be  right 
for  you  to  say  such  things  to  me,  especially  as  they  aren't 
true  and  we've  only  known  each  other  one  evening.  And 
I  think  I  see  my  sister  looking  for  me  now ! "  But  even  as 
she  rebuked  him,  she  experienced  the  first  tiny  pain,  the 
birth-pangs  of  her  love. 

He  too  rose  and  bowed  to  her  gravely,  darkly  red  as  an 
Indian  and  of  the  same  inscrutability.  He  stood  back,  very 
stifiF  and  straight,  for  her  to  pass.  Seeing  him  so,  she  hesi- 
tated, her  hands  fluttering  out,  her  heart  beating  tumultu- 
ously. 

"  Please — I — that  is,  you  know,  I'm  sorry,  really,  but — oh, 
won't  you ?  " 

His  face  was  impassive.  He  bowed  again  with  tragic 
stoicism,  half  lost  in  the  moves  of  the  game.  But  to  Joan 
Wister  he  was  supremely  convincing.  She  passed  him 
sorrowfully,  since  there  was  nothing  now  left  to  do,  stum- 
bling from  the  cool  fragrance  of  the  conservatory  to  the 
garish  materialism  of  the  hall.  And  there,  before  she  knew 
it,  she  had  stumbled  into  the  arms  of  Godfrey's  father. 
Bishop  Blunt,  lending  his  presence  to  the  occasion  with 
just  that  trace  of  suave  benevolence  that  she  had  remem- 
bered of  old.    But  now  she  was  too  old  to  be  snubbed,  so. 


AN  AUDACIOUS  PRINCE  141 

instead,  he  offered  her  his  arm  and  several  yards  of  con- 
versation nicely  calculated  to  divert  a  miss  of  twenty-three. 

"  Do  you  indulge  in  punch,  my  dear  ?  Or  don't  you  yet 
indulge  in  anything?  Ha,  ha!  Here  we  have  it,  as  pink 
as  in  the  days  of  country  circuses.  I  need  hardly  say  dances 
are  out  of  my  line,  but  I  occasionally  lend  an  eye  to  the 
harmless  amusement  of  our  young  people.  I  trust  your 
father  is  as  well  as  usual  ? " 

"  No,  I'm  glad  to  say, — I  mean  yes,  thank  you."  She 
took  one  sip  of  the  drink  and  choked  distressingly.  It  was 
difficult  to  rivet  attention  on  the  Bishop's  benign  pink  face 
when  at  any  moment  she  might  see  Ballou. 

"And  what,"  pursued  the  Bishop,  generously  lubricating 
his  .throat,  "  ever  became  of  that  unfortunate  girl  you  had 
in  tow  at  the  time  my  son  was  married  ?  I  am  fond  of  tell- 
ing that  story  in  contention  of  the  fact  that  youthful  gener- 
osity is — er — often  misguided !  " 

"  Do  you  mean  Lily  Gray  ?  "  asked  Joan  with  a  feeble 
smile,  her  eye  still  vagrant.  "  Oh,  Jerry  took  her  in,  you 
know." 

"  Jerry  took  her  in !    Dear  me,  just  how  do  you  mean?  '* 

"  He  gave  her  a  position  as  his  secretary,  and  I  suppose, 
although  I  haven't  seen  her,  that  she  is  living  *  happily  ever 
after.'  "  But  even  as  she  spoke  the  word  "  Jerry  "  it  was 
strange  upon  her  lips.  She  was  riding  a  meteor  now,  and 
she  had  passed  Jerry's  world. 

And  after  what  seemed  an  interminable  time  of  profitless 
talk  and  forced  gaiely  the  Bishop  handed  her  along  to  a 
"  splendid  young  man  "  who  pillared  his  church,  and  danced 
as  heavily  as  one  would  expect  a  pillar  to  do.  And  still 
no  Bret  Ballou,  to  come  thundering  after.  All  at  once  the 
assembly  grew  nauseous  in  her  sight,  her  sight  sick  for  the 
audacious  prince,  sulking  in  obscurity  over  whiskeys  and 
sodas.    As  she  passed  down  to  supper  on  the  arm  of  the 


142  BLIND  WISDOM 

"pillar"  she  felt  like  one  worn  thin  through"  waiting  and 
anxiety.  Oh,  what  if  her  golden  moment  had  fled  irrev- 
ocably, what  if  her  prince  had  abandoned  her  for  always? 
Her  hunted  face  looked  so  small  to  Agnes,  who  happened 
to  be  near,  that  she  bent  and  whispered : 

"Are  you  feeling  ill,  dear,  or  have  you  lost  something?" 
and  Joan  without  hesitation  whispered  back,  "  I've  lost 
something,"  then  allowed  herself  to  be  placed  at  table  and 
engulfed  in  the  general  uproar.  And  there  at  last  she  saw 
him,  aloof  and  handsome.  And  her  coffee  grew  cold  and 
her  lobster  a  la  Newburg  lost  its  pristine  flavor. 

How  many  actual  minutes  that  separation  endured  is  not 
to  be  estimated  literally.  But  it  inevitably  ended  as  all 
agonies  end,  suddenly,  thankfully.  They  filed  out  of  the 
supper  room  and  Joan  brushed  close  to  him,  as  she  did  so 
lifting  her  eyes  so  that  he  saw  they  were  wet.  Poor,  in- 
genuous Joan,  who  could  weep  for  a  prince  of  a  night! 
Used  as  he  was  to  the  finesse  of  society  girls,  the  revelation 
was  a  powerful  one. 

"  Dance  with  me,"  he  bit  off  savagely,  and  said  not  an- 
other word  the  while  they  wound  their  way  to  fairyland 
with  intricate  feet.  . 

An  almost  religious  contentment  brooded  in  her  heart. 
She  felt  herself  deliciously  inferior  to  his  strength  and  de- 
cisiveness, enfeebled  and  glad.  When  he  stopped  abruptly 
and  drew  her  back  to  their  former  retreat  her  racing  heart 
presaged  she  knew  not  what.  Was  it  mad  physical  attrac- 
tion, the  girl's  concept  of  love  as  applied  to  a  convenient 
object?    What  was  it  that  possessed  her  utterly? 

Ballou,  sensing  her  vanquishment,  was  swayed  pro- 
foundly.    Heavens,  she  knew  nothing  about  him,  she  did 

not  even  know  that And  yet  she  followed  him  with 

humility  and  abandon.  In  his  own  circle  he  was  considered 
something  of  a  good  fellow;  he  was,  in  point  of  fact,  not 


AN  AUDACIOUS  PRINCE  143 

quite  so  good  as  the  best  of  them,  but  considerably  better 
than  the  worst.  If  his  tolerant  friends  among  the  men  said 
anything  of  his  propensity  for  attracting  women,  it  was  in 
the  modern  vernacular ;  they  "  admired  his  work."  Beside, 
there  were  things  in  his  life,  brief  as  it  had  been,  that 
warranted  in  their  eyes  his  efforts  at  distraction.  Also,  he 
was  rich  and  the  fact  weighed  heavily  toward  condonement. 

When  he  drew  Joan  resistlessly  to  him,  he  probably  did 
so  without  premeditation.  It  was  incredible  that  she  was 
really  so  unsophisticated  as  she  seemed;  beside,  if  she  were 
of  nunlike  prudery,  she  had  no  business  to  look  so  pro- 
vocative. 

"  Have  you  missed  me,  Twinkletoes  ?  "  he  demanded  in  a 
whisper,  plunging  into  the  way  of  least  resistance,  and  Joan, 
with  frightened  eyes,  obeying  only  what  was  in  her  heart, 
whispered  back,  "  Don't  ever  leave  me  again." 

"  Never,"  vowed  he  waywardly,  and  he  bent  and  kissed 
her  full  on  her  sweet,  fresh  mouth. 

Later,  amazement  dawned  upon  him ;  here  was  one  twen- 
tieth-century girl  who  deprecated  the  love-offering  which 
she  gave  with  both  hands.  For  when  he  had  kissed  her, 
her  eyes  were  kindled  like  stars  and  she  had  whispered 
back,  "  Thank  you,  thank  you." 

"  I'm  mad  about  you,"  he  declared  In  extenuation,  mor- 
tally ashamed  of  himself. 

Then  she  did  very  nearly  succeed  in  unmanning  him. 

"  I  love  you,  too,"  she  cried  simply. 

Confound  it,  he  was  wishing  that  half  the  frosting  was 
not  gone  from  the  cake  of  life ! 


CHAPTER  XIV 
JERRY'S  DASH  FOR  FREEDOM 

Jerry  Callendar  was  conning  over  a  case.  Beneath  his 
hand  on  the  old  desk  lay  a  sheaf  of  paper,  and  now  and  then 
a  rift  of  November  wind  would  force  its  cunning  way 
about  the  edges  of  the  window  and  stir  the  sheets  im- 
pudently. Outside  the  day  was  graying  into  night,  the 
subtle,  opalescent  lights  that  had  shown  between  the  build- 
ings now  lost  in  a  dull,  prehensile  sky.  He  had  sat  a 
long  time  in  deep  absorption  that  afternoon  with  the  mental 
picture  of  the  case  which  he  was  building  up.  It  had  in- 
terested him  unusually;  there  was  a  human  element  in  it, — 
for  several  weeks  it  had  intrigued  his  imagination  and  made 
him  more  content  with  his  lot.  For  Jerry  was  of  those 
whose  business  shrine  is  empty.  He  never  quite  lost  the 
bitterness,  the  sense  of  futility  of  one  who  feels  himself 
misplaced.  Godfrey,  of  no  greater  ability,  was  yet  a  better 
candidate  for  the  niche  he  filled ;  if  he  felt  no  great  sense  of 
dedication  to  his  profession,  he  at  least  felt  no  aversion 
for  it. 

There  were  times  such  as  in  the  past  few  weeks,  when 
Jerry  was  tricked  into  a  half-way  resignation ;  when  his  per- 
ceptions or  enthusiasms  overlaid  his  fundamental  distaste 
for  the  practice  of  the  law.  But  the  reaction  was  swift  and 
inevitable.  Now  as  he  skimmed  the  vivid  pages,  for  the 
first  time  he  did  so  impersonally. 

"  I'm  seeing  this  from  the  writer's  standpoint,  from  the 
student's  standpoint,"  he  told  himself  half  scornfully,  half 
amusedly,  "  and  not  from  the  legal  standpoint  at  all."    He 


JERRY'S  DASH  FOR  FREEDOM  14S 

went  deliberately  further.  "That's  because  I'm  a  play- 
writer  and  not  a  lawyer." 

And  behold  his  enthusiasm  was  unveiled  to  a  skeleton! 
Suddenly  his  thought  veered  from  his  own  personal  prob- 
lems to  the  room,  traditional  in  size,  shape  and  arrangement. 
The  building  was  of  the  older  ones  in  Rector  Street,  and 
from  the  time  he  was  a  lad  he  could  remember  his  father 
opening  the  door  with  a  casual  hand  that  lifted  his  hat  to 
the  peg  beside  it.  Then,  with  a  sober,  rather  shuffling  walk, 
make  straight  for  the  door  marked  "  Private."  There  were 
worn  places  across  the  wooden  floor  that  testified  to  that 
daily  pilgrimage.  Within,  the  sanctum  of  his  life  was  digni- 
fied though  uninviting,  the  old  mahogany,  and  old  book- 
cases, incredibly  black  and  portentous.  The  dust  had  al- 
most a  symbolic  value  here.  As  though  he  had  no  patience 
with  sunlight,  old  Judge  Callendar  had  eschewed  the  win- 
dow, piling  the  derelict  volumes  of  his  practice,  book  on 
book,  till  naught  but  a  wan  crack  of  day  remained  un- 
covered. Gas  had  given  place  to  electricity  in  this  cavern 
of  judgment,  but  the  effect  was  the  same.  Here,  day  by 
day,  save  when  he  was  occupied  in  court  sittings,  the 
brusque,  middle-aged  man  had  evolved  into  the  brusque  old 
man,  as  generally  respected  and  feared  as  though  his  powers 
were  supernatural.  Jerry  could  remember  as  a  motherless 
child  of  fifteen  being  dumbly  hurt  by  that  Stygian  gloom 
and  seeking  to  alleviate  it  with  a  bunch  of  daffodils  which 
he  had  placed  on  his  father's  desk  in  a  cracked  office 
pitcher.  He  could  see  to  this  day  the  grimly  questioning 
look  which  his  stern  parent  had  directed  at  the  innocent 
offering  before  he  reached  for  the  flowers  with  muscular 
fingers  and  flung  them  into  the  waste  paper  basket. 

"  Flowers  don't  belong  in  a  man's  life,"  he  had  said  to 
the  boy  with  hard  double  meaning. 

No,  there  had  been  no  daffodils  along  old  Callendar's  way. 


146  BLIND  WISDOM 

And  there  would  be  no  daffodils  along  Jerry's  path  unless 
he  somehow  cast  off  the  intolerable  bonds  of  this  pro- 
fession and  sought  his  own.  He  saw  himself  dragging 
along  the  thankless  road  for  a  veritable  eternity,  until  his 
father  should  die  and  the  groove  become  too  deep  for  him 
to  lift  clear  of,  and  he  shuddered  violently. 

The  shadows  about  him  assumed  grotesque  shapes  of 
warning,  like  waving  arms  and  frantic  fingers  driving  him 
away.    A  step  broke  his  reverie. 

"  Oh,  you  Godfrey,"  he  said,  turning  and  trying  to  speak 
lightly,  **  I  thought  I  felt  a  face !  Godfrey,  old  boy,  Tm 
going  to  spring  something  that'll  surprise  you." 

"  Nothing  can  surprise  a  man,"  quoted  Godfrey  amiably, 
"after  he's  fallen  asleep  in  the  bath-tub  and  turned  over 
on  his  face." 

"  I'm  going  away,"  announced  Jerry,  unheeding.  "  I'm 
going  to  chuck  the  law  game  for  good  and  all.  This  is  no 
premature  statement;  it's  what  I've  been  thinking  and  feel- 
ing for  years.  Great  God !  I'm  thirty-seven  and  I  haven't 
had  a  *  look-in  *  at  living  the  kind  of  life  I  want.  The  gov- 
ernor threw  me  into  this,  willy  nilly,  the  way  they  chuck 
youngsters  into  the  millpond  to  make  'em  swim.  Some 
swim  and  some  drown,  and  that's  what  I'm  doing." 

He  rose  and  wheeled  nervously  about. 

"  Look  here,  Godfrey,  old  fellow,  you  may  like  it,  but  I 
don't.  There's  no  soul  in  the  thing  for  me — ^no  conscience, 
either,  nine  times  out  of  ten.  The  law's  too  cut  and  dried, 
too  arbitrary,  too  prescribed;  it's  tight  as  a  straight-jacket, 
it  won't  adjust  to  fit  individuals ;  between  ourselves,  it's  ab- 
surd ?  What's  my  father  been  doing  all  his  life  ?  Running 
down  criminals,  with  about  as  much  charity  for  the  erring 
as  a  sewing-machine,  without  any  knowledge  of  human 
nature,  without  any  tolerance — ^without  any  love!  Oh,  I 
tdl  you,  it's  hideous  the  life  he's  led,  lined  up  with  Satan 


JERRY'S  DASH  FOR  FREEDOM  147 

to  give  poor  devils  the  devil,  instead  of  directing  his  energy 
toward  the  source  of  the  trouble " 

"  That  may  be,"  interrupted  Godfrey,  scratching  his  head 
in  discomfort,  "  but  we  aren't  all  idealists  like  you,  Jerry, 
we  can't  afford  to  be  idealists.  What's  to  become  of  the 
world,  what's  to  become  of  law  and  order  ?  " 

When  Jerry  turned  his  hair  was  distraught  and  one  end 
of  his  tie  hung  loosely. 

"  Law  and  order  are  no  relations  of  mine,  and  I  don't 
feel  under  obligation.  I  haven't  time  to  go  into  that.  It's 
always  the  cure  and  never  the  prevention  that  you  con- 
servative chaps  think  about.  Very  well,  be  the  policeman, 
be  the  game  warden,  if  you  want  to,  if  it's  necessary  for 
some  one  to  take  the  dirty  jobs.  Let  me  get  at  it  in  another 
way,  in  my  own  way.  I'm  through  with  your  methods." 
He  softened  suddenly.  "  Do  you  believe  in  the  nobility  of 
your  profession  ?    Come  now !  " 

Godfrey  hesitated,  then  laughed  ruefully. 

"  Darned  if  I  know,  but  it's  hard  enough  to  get  through 
the  world  at  best  without  splitting  all  the  hairs.  Jerry,  you 
make  me  tired.  Why  do  you  think  yourself  an  instrument 
of  the  Almighty?  What  makes  you  think  you  have  a 
mission  to  enlighten  the  public  ?  " 

"  That's  right.  Why  do  I  ? "  pondered  Jerry,  half  to 
himself. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  then  Godfrey  said  in  a 
dazed  voice: 

"You  can't  be  serious.  This  is  one  of  the  things  that 
aren't  done.  Men  don't  walk  out  in  a  huff  like  their  office 
boys  and  let  their  interests  go  to  pot,"  and  in  high  pique  he 
assumed  a  bantering  tone.  "  Sweet  Sapphira,  you'd  better 
have  a  care,  little  one.  The  city  is  hard  on  poor  lone  girls 
like  you.  What  the  devil  do  you  think  you'd  do?  It's  no 
joke  at  your  age  to  be  rustling  up  another  job.*^ 


148  BLIND  WISDOM 

Jerry  took  a  tentative  step  toward  the  window,  staring 
into  the  street  as  though  some  tangible  future  were  waiting 
for  him. 

"  I  can't  tell  you.  You'd  laugh,  and  if  you  did  I'd  have 
to  kill  you."  He  smiled  grimly,  but  it  was  the  smile  God- 
frey loved.  Perhaps  out  of  the  whole  world  his  feeling  for 
Jerry  Callendar  was  strongest.  "  I  don't  say  I'll  close  my 
desk  and  never  open  it  again,  but  that'g  what  it  virtually 
amounts  to.  There's  nothing  pending  now  you  can't  handle 
without  me,  and  really  I'm  making  you  a  present  of  my  own 
personal  practice." 

"  But,  man,  this  is  madness,  and  it  hits  me  hard.  If  you 
weren't  such  an  obstinate  wretch  I'd  try  to  talk  you  out  of 
it."  He  had  a  ray  of  ignoble  hope.  "  Have  you  told — 
him?" 

"  Him  "  was  Judge  Callendar,  as  great  a  potentate  behind 
his  glazed  door  as  any  monarch  in  his  kingdom. 

"  No,"  answered  Jerry,  steadily,  "  but  I'm  going  to  before 
the  hand  of  that  clock  touches  the  hour.  The  way  I'm  feel- 
ing now  it  would  take  something  more  than  the  tower  of 
Pisa  falling  to  iron  me  flat." 

"  I  see."  Godfrey  bit  his  lip  like  a  hurt  child.  "  Then 
you'd  better  have  a  drink  first,  or  else  take  a  running  jump 
and  go  over  the  partition.  The  plunge  won't  be  so  cold  if 
you  take  it  all  at  once." 

Jerry  had  grown  grave.  But  his  eyes  were  clear  and 
fearless  still, 

"  Here  goes,"  he  murmured ;  "  wish  me  luck." 

His  father  was  seated  before  the  littered  desk  when  he 
entered,  the  electric  bulb  behind  him  shedding  a  rough  halo 
about  his  white  head.  When  he  glanced  up  the  pockets  in 
his  face  filled  with  shadows  and  seemed  more  than  usually 
cadaverous.  His  mustache  was  still  stubbornly  black  and 
there  were  black  tufts  in  the  beetling  brows  which  hung 


JERRY'S  DASH  FOR  FREEDOM  149 

threateningly  over  the  fine,  piercing  eyes.  Perhaps  some- 
thing in  Jerry's  face  arrested  him  and  warned  him  here 
was  no  mere  business  interview.  Moreover,  Jerry's  manner, 
usually  a  compound  of  defiance  and  affection,  was  now  in- 
explicably changed.  The  Judge  lifted  one  sinewy  hand  to 
remove  his  glasses  and  when  he  had  done  so  he  wiped  his 
eyes  with  great  weariness,  staring  at  his  son  with  the  touch- 
ing effort  of  the  near-sighted. 

"  Well,"  he  got  out.  But  Jerry,  having  journeyed  so  far 
along  the  road  of  decision,  was  not  to  be  turned  back  at  the 
first  discouraging  sign-post. 

"  Father,"  he  stated,  coming  closer  and  towering  above 
the  crotchety  old  man,  "  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  quit 
the  law.  I  should  always  be  a  poor  lawyer, — I  mean  in  the 
spiritual  sense — ^but  there's  a  chance  I  may  make  good  at 
something  else.    Would  you  care  to  discuss  it  with  me  ?  " 

For  answer  his  father  ripped  out  the  one  interrogative 
word : 

"Again?" 

"  First,  last  and  always,"  answered  Jerry  doggedly,  "  The 
time  has  come,  that's  all,"  then,  fearing  that  he  had  been  a 
bit  too  brutal  with  his  announcement,  he  added  conciliat- 
ingly,  "  I  don't  mean  that  I  won't  close  up  what  work  I  have 
on  hand.     I  simply  mean  that " 

But  to  his  surprise  his  father  had  risen ;  he  had  risen  to 
an  unimagined  height,  trembling  and  towering  in  rage. 

"  Young  man,  there's  a  yellow  streak  in  you.  I  knew  it 
years  ago  when  you  brought  those  trashy  .flowers  and  ar- 
ranged 'em  here,  here  where  your  nose  should  have  been 
buried  in  your  books.  I  said  to  myself  then,  *  He's  no 
Callendar.'  I  said  it  then  and  I  say  it  now.  You  took 
from  your  mother's  side,  and  the  Dales  were  no  good — 
died  poor,  hud  every  one  of  *em  had  enough  theories  to  fill 
his  grave." 


ISO  BLIND  WISDOM 

He  laughed  in  raw  bitterness  and  the  color  drained  slowly 
from  his  face.  He  seemed  to  be  rallying  his  forces  for  one 
last  fling  at  the  son  who  had  failed  him. 

"  You  needn't  trouble  about  anything  more.  You  git. 
That's  it,  you  git.  An'  you  can  go  anywhere  you  please  so 
long  as  you  don't  come  back.  You  can  go  straight  to — 
hell." 

His  voice  cracke'd  and  shrilled  on  the  last  word  and  rang 
with  appalling  effect  into  the  outer  office  where  Godfrey 
Blunt  and  a  couple  of  secretaries  stood  rooted  to  the  spot. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Jerry,  whiter  than  his  father, 
"  but  I  have  other  plans,"  and  turned  and  marched  out. 

"  He  doesn't  mean  quite  that,"  whispered  Godfrey,  cor- 
ralling him  with  an  affectionate  arm  as  he  made  toward  the 
outer  door.  "  He'll  come  round  in  a  few  days  and  be  look- 
ing you  up.     I  say,  where  are  you  going  to  live,  old  man  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Jerry  dully.     "  Let  me  go  now " 

and  he  freed  himself  resolutely. 

But  in  the  echoing  corridor  steps  came  hurrying  after  and 
he  turned  once  more,  thinking  that  it  was  Godfrey  who  had 
followed.  Instead,  a  flaxen-haired  girl  in  a  serge  skirt  and 
a  neat  blouse  caught  timidly  at  his  sleeve. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Callendar,"  sobbed  Lily  Gray,  "  please  don't 
leave  me  behind.  I  can't  a-bear  your  father;  I'm  that 
afraid  of  him  I  quake  in  my  shoes  when  I  take  down  his 
letters.     Oh,  please,  Mr.  Callendar,  don't  go  off  like  this." 

"  But,  Lily,"  began  Jerry,  controlling  his  desire  to  escape 
at  any  cost,  "  Miss  Gray,  I  mean,  Mr.  Blunt  will  keep  you 
on  and  things  will  be  just  as  they  have  been  before.  Stop 
crying  now.     There's  a  good  girl." 

Whereupon  she  sobbed  all  the  harder. 

"  Nor  I  don't  like  hint,  neither.  If  I  make  mistakes  he's 
crosser^n  sticks,  an*  if  I  do  good  work  he's  all  the  time 
getting  fresh  with  me," 


JERRY'S  DASH  FOR  FREEDOM  151 

**  Glory  to  God,"  cried  the  exasperated  Jerry,  taking  off 
his  hat  and  wiping  his  brow.    "  What  a  world !  " 

"Ain't  it  just!"  seconded  Lily  with  comic  conviction. 
Then  feminine  intuition  told  her  that  her  idol  had  reached 
the  end  of  his  rope  for  one  day. 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  it  can't  be  helped,  Mr.  Callendar,  but 
honest,  I'll  miss  you  fierce,  an'  so'll  the  other  girls.  If  you 
get  where  you  can,  will  you  take  me  back  again  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  will,"  he  assured  her,  really  touched.  "  Here's  a 
secret,  Lily.  I'm  going  to  write  plays.  And  as  soon  as  I 
get  going  you  can  be  my  secretary.     Should  you  like  that  ?  " 

She  rolled  her  eyes  and  simultaneously  a  wad  of  gum 
from  one  cheek  to  another.  Her  smile  flashed  through  her 
tears. 

"  The  answer's  the  same  as  will  a  duck  swim?  Good-bye, 
Mr.  Callendar,  mind  you  don't  forget,  now.  An* — an' — 
good  luck."  Then  she  fled  bravely  before  he  could  see  her 
smile  vanish. 

It  was  dark  when  Jerry  let  himself  in  with  a  latch-key  to 
the  house  in  Washington  Square.  His  intention  was  to 
pack  as  many  of  his  personal  things  as  he  could  in  the  half 
hour  before  his  father  came  home,  but  on  second  thought 
his  pride  rebelled.  Would  it  not  be  better  to  start  fresh 
and  unencumbered?  For  nearly  everything  in  his  rooms, 
nearly  everything  in  the  house,  for  that  matter,  was  heavy 
with  association,  had  a  coat  of  moss  upon  it,  so  to  speak. 
He  and  his  father  had  lived  as  busy  men  do,  rather  com- 
fortlessly in  the  great,  lugubrious  house  that  stayed  stub- 
bornly in  the  middle  of  the  past  century,  both  as  to  furniture 
and  tradition.  Judge  Callendar  had  long  ago  selected  for 
his  housekeeper  a  middle  class  Englishwoman,  a  certain 
Mrs.  Flint,  "with  no  nonsense  about  her,"  and  so  firmly 
convinced  of  her  efficiency  that  she  converted  her  em- 


152  BLIND  WISDOM 

ployer  and  all  but  converted  the  helpless  Jerry.  The  truth, 
of  course,  was  that  she  lacked  all  imagination  or  ingenuity ; 
she  created  no  atmosphere.  Never  did  she  unconsciously 
leave  a  feminine  reminder  in  an)^  pleasantly  conspicuous 
place,  a  bit  of  sewing  or  knitting,  a  basket  or  a  scarf.  She 
prided  herself  on  being  as  shipshape  as  a  man.  Her  mend- 
ing was  always  done  in  her  room  and  carried  later  in  a 
coarse  bag  to  the  linen  closet ;  she  kept  threads  and  buttons 
in  tight  little  boxes  beneath  tight  little  labels,  and  she  seemed 
to  be  forever  locking  and  unlocking  closets  and  doors  with 
one  of  the  interminable  keys  that  dangled  at  her  waist. 
Jerry  through  all  the  years  had  never  lost  his  shamed  dis- 
taste for  her.  He  sensed  vaguely  that  she  lacked  some  es- 
sential quality  of  womanhood;  that  the  house  was  un- 
habitable, but  always  when  he  tried  to  lay  finger  on  the 
cause  of  the  trouble  he  failed  to  locate  it. 

Now  as  he  climbed  the  winding  stair  to  his  room,  so  dark 
that  it  did  not  matter  whether  the  carpet  was  swept  or  not, 
(though  Mrs.  Flint  would  have  assured  him  that  it  was), 
he  passed  for  the  millionth  time  the  niche  with  the  pink 
gum  statuette  of  Pickwick  and  Sam  Weller.  He  heard  for 
the  millionth  time  the  brush  of  Mrs.  Flint's  garments  along 
the  upper  hall,  ghostly-remote  as  footsteps  of  the  dead,  and 
he  seemed  to  see  her  black  satine  apron,  her  hard,  tight  waist 
and  forbidding  bosom,  and  the  pale,  coarse  face  above, 
topped  by  a  black  false  front  and  abashed  gray  locks  be- 
hind. If  she  heard  him  packing  she  would  come  to  his 
room  with  the  expression  of  polite  scandalization  that  he 
knew  so  well,  and  she  would  build  up  difficulties  about  him, 
she  would  hem  him  in  with  "  buts  "  and  "  ifs  "  and  heavy 
reminders,  till  departure  became  nigh  impossible.  Then  all 
the  evening  she  would  whisper  to  his  father  about  him  as  she 
served  and  cleared  away  dinner,  her  mystification  spread- 
ing a  fog  through  the  house  and  even  reaching  out  to 


JERRY'S  DASH  FOR  FREEDOM  153 

dampen  Jerry  in  whatever  haven  he  should  have  fled  tOj 
Oh,  it  was  intolerable ! 

He  closed  the  door  of  his  room  and  leaned  against  it, 
and  told  himself  that  he  would  take  nothing  save  what  he 
could  slip  into  a  small  hand-bag.  It  would  be  simpler  to 
send  for  his  clothes  later,  when  he  would  not  have  to  hear 
Mrs.  Flint's  expostulations.  As  he  circled  down  the  stair 
again  the  sadness  of  it  all  smote  him  afresh.  He  was  sorry 
for  his  father,  and  through  his  pity  he  loved  him  intensely. 
Never  had  he  understood  the  barrier  between  them,  but 
that,  according  to  his  philosophy,  was  not  necessary.  His 
heart  ached  to  be  leaving  him  here  in  this  mausoleum  of 
stagnant  memories  and  sterile  hopes,  but  it  could  not  be 
helped.  As  he  passed  the  door  of  the  "  parlor,"  shrouded 
and  waiting  like  a  thing  asleep,  he  thought  wistfully  of  Joan. 
It  seemed  that  her  presence  in  the  house,  if  it  were  merely 
for  a  matter  of  moments,  must  instill  life  and  sweetness 
and  charity  into  its  mustiness.  But  now  he  believed  that 
she  would  never  enter  it. 

Outside  the  wind  was  radical  as  a  tonic  and  he  inhaled 
it  thankfully,  saying  to  himself,  "  No  recriminations  now. 
I'm  free — free,  and  I'm  going  to  rejoice  in  my  freedom." 

The  park,  with  its  wind-blown,  hurrying  figures,  was  dark 
beneath  the  muffled  sky,  but  an  electric  cross  on  the  old 
church  opposite  lifted  its  symbol  of  courage,  and  lights  were 
winking  in  the  houses.  Presently  a  square  of  warmth  fell  on 
the  pavement,  and  as  he  stepped  inadvertently  into  the  glow 
he  remembered  that  he  was  hungry.  Three  steps  down  men 
and  women  were  dining  with  an  air  of  camaraderie,  and  as 
Callendar  took  the  table  designated  he  felt  himself  the 
recipient,  the  sharer,  of  a  certain  hospitality.  He  grew  quite 
gay  over  the  jolly  bowl  of  stewed  oysters,  and  even  scraped 
up  conversation  with  the  thin  little  waitress  who  looked  as 
if  hard  luck  had  her  in  leash. 


154  BLIND  WISDOM 

He  was  in  the  midst  of  his  solitary  enjoyment  when  he 
became  aware  of  a  couple  at  the  next  table,  by  their  cloth- 
ing conspicuous  in  the  unpretentious  little  place.  But  the 
amazing  thing  was  that  he  knew  them  both,  and  they  were 
affecting  very  earnestly  not  to  see  him.  Claire  Wister,  by 
the  Lord,  and  that  young  Ridgely  Rutherford,  the  actor, 
whom  Jerry  had  presented  on  the  night  of  the  theatre-party. 
Claire  holding  a  secret  rendezvous  with  a  matinee  idol  I 
His  feeling  was  absurdly  apologetic.  Why  had  a  perverse 
chance  sent  him  stumbling  in  upon  their  obscure  meeting 
place,  why  had  Fate  chosen  him  to  bear  the  burden  of  the 
secret  ? 

He  finished  dinner  as  hastily  as  he  could  without  giving 
offense  to  the  little  waitress  who  made  excuse  to  linger  near 
and  chat.  As  he  was  leaving  she  said,  with  the  naive  bold- 
ness of  the  born  Bohemian : 

"If  you  live  near  by,  won't  you  please  take  all  your  meals 
here?" 

He  lighted  a  cigarette  and  gave  her  a  smile  of  great 
charm. 

"  I  don't  know  where  I  live.  That's  the  worst  and  the 
best  of  it!'* 


CHAPTER  XV 
INFATUATION 

When  Joan  wakened  the  morning  after  the  dance,  a  voice 
followed  her  out  of  her  dreams.  "  Twinkletoes,  is  it  you  ?  " 
She  cleared  the  sleepy  hair  from  her  eyes,  and  hanging 
above  the  telephone  embraced  it  as  though  the  impersonal 
instrument  were  imbued  with  life.  The  world  of  wide- 
awake appeared  as  beautiful  then  as  slumberland  had  been. 

"  It  is  I,  Bret  Ballou,"  she  sang  with  tender  humor,  yet 
even  as  she  made  the  assertion  she  was  reminded  of  a  story 
of  her  childhood,  the  famous  story  of  the  old  woman  "  who 
fell  asleep  on  the  king's  highway."  And  "  along  came  a 
peddler  whose  name  was  '  Stout,' "  and  who,  according  to 
the  legend,  "  cut  off  her  petticoats  round  about."  The  re- 
sult being  that  when  the  poor  little  woman  wakened  "  all 
in  the  dark  "  she  doubted  her  own  identity.  "  That  is  how 
I  feel,"  reflected  Joan  with  a  sigh.  "  '  But  if  it  be  I  as  I 
hope  it  be,  I've  a  little  dog  at  home  and  he'll  know  me.*  " 

Could  it  be  possible  that  twenty-four  hours  had  brought 
about  this  miracle? 

"  Come  out  into  the  sunshine  and  play,  Twinkletoes," 
urged  her  playboy-of-an-evenlng.  "  Put  on  your  best  hat 
and  humor,  and  we'll  call  it  a  holiday." 

And,  trembling,  she  bathed  and  dressed.  The  little  Joan 
who  had  ever  been  direct  as  an  arrow,  clear-eyed  as  a 
prophet,  was  now  in  an  exquisite  muddle.  Love  befogged 
her  eyes  at  every  turn.    Only  one  angle  of  vision  had  been 


IS6  BLIND  WISDOM 

sharpened  by  the  encounter  with  Ballou.  She  looked  into 
the  mirror  and  saw  herself  with  detached  perspective;  she 
saw  her  delicate  claims  to  beauty  set  forth  in  poignant  plea, 
she  marvelled  as  only  a  woman  can  who  has  been  inter- 
preted to  herself  by  a  man's  love.  And  she  felt  a  great 
humility  at  the  knowledge.  This  had  been  hers  in  trust  for 
the  sudden  Ballou,  sprung  as  full-panoplied  into  her  life  as 
Minerva  from  the  head  of  Zeus. 

"  May  I  take  luncheon  and  see  a  matinee  with  Mr. 
Ballou?"  she  asked  Agnes  some  hour  or  more  later,  and 
Agnes,  immersed  in  domestic  activity,  countered  vaguely : 

"  Mr.  Ballou  ?    Was  he  at  the  dance  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  He  was  the  only  person  at  the  dance,  I  mean 
the  only  one  you  could  see.  And  Bishop  Blunt  says  he  is 
a  universal  favorite,  and  Godfrey " 

"  Oh,  well,  I  don't  remember,  but  if  Godfrey  ap- 
proves  "     She  demurred  for  a  moment  conscientiously, 

the  laundry  list  in  her  hand,  while  Hannah  with  her  angles 
was  bent  above  a  heap  of  soiled  linen,  reeling  off  numbers 
like  the  quarterback  in  a  football  rush.  "  Five,  eight,  ten," 
repeated  Agnes  with  ambidextrousness,  "  but  you  have  no 
chaperone." 

"  I  know,"  admitted  Joan,  "  but  the  American  girl  is  safe 
with  the  American  man,  as  every  one  knows,  and " 

"  Remember  to  keep  out  the  flannels,  Hannah,"  Agnes  in- 
terspersed the  argument  with  utilitarian  remarks.     "  Yes,  I 

know,  Joan,  but  still  I  feel  that  Mother Did  you  say 

four,  Hannah  ?  " 

"  Five,  six,  pick  up  sticks,"  laughed  Joan.  "  I'm  going, 
Aggie,  I'm  going,  going,  gone!"  and  the  twinkletoes  had 
twinkled  swiftly  out  of  Agnes'  domain. 

Ballou  waited,  with  that  fresh  zest  of  adventure  which 
was  all  that  made  the  game  worth  the  candle  for  him.  He 
had  the  knack  or  endowment  of  appearing  perfectly  groomed 


INFATUATION  157 

and  clean-fibred  even  after  a  night  of  revelry,  the  jaunty 
simphcity  to  be  remarked  in  the  sons  of  society,  dressed 
with  "  an  art  that  conceals  art."  No  wonder  that  Joan 
found  him  beguiling. 

"  Let  us  walk  a  little,  ride  a  little,  eat  a  little,  and  talk 
exclusively  of  ourselves,"  was  his  gay  formula,  once  they 
were  abroad  in  the  bright,  tingling  winter  streets.  "  I  must 
buy  you  some  flowers." 

"  That  would  be  lovely,  and  flowers  always  seem  to  call 
for  hansom  cabs,  don't  you  think?  I  detest  taxi-cabs — 
horrid  things!  They  are  so  hopelessly  commercial  with 
their  little  clicking  meters.  The  hansom  driver  robs  you 
much  more  gracefully,"  and  she  laughed  droUy. 

Neither  had  had  time  to  realize  the  assets  of  the  other, 
but  when,  in  the  flower  shop,  Bret  extracted  a  roll  of  bills 
from  a  beautiful  limp  leather  case  with  gold  fittings,  she 
suddenly  suspected  him  of  affluence.  Everything  about  him 
was,  so  to  speak,  with  gold  edges. 

"  No,  not  orchids,  please.  They're  such  fearful  snobs. 
Haven't  you  any  country-bred  flowers  ?  " 

The  dealer  glanced  at  her  curiously. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  squash  blossoms,  exactly,"  she 
hastened  to  elucidate,  "  but,  say,  nice  ladylike  sweet  peas, 
or  those  old-fashioned  dwarf  chrysanthemums  that  keep 
their  heads  after  all  the  rest  get  panicky  with  the  frost  ?  " 

They  compromised  on  a  corsage  bouquet  of  violets  with  a 
blushing  rose  in  the  center,  then  sallied  forth  to  hail  Joan's 
vaunted  hansom.  A  sense  of  repetition  set  curiously  upon 
her;  just  so  she  had  gone  adventuring  with  Jerry,  dear 
Jerry,  who  had  given  her  everything  save  this  rushing, 
throbbing  fire  of  love.  She  wondered  how  Jerry  would 
take  Bret  when  the  two  should  meet,  yet  it  scarcely  mattered. 
Nothing  now  mattered  but  the  delirious  present. 

"  What  is  your  occupation,  Bret  ? "  she  asked  as  they 


158  BLIND  WISDOM 

rocked  up  the  avenue.    "I  mean,  what  do  you  care  for 

most?" 

He  had  asked  her  permission  to  light  a  cigarette  and  now 
carefully  shielded  her  from  the  smoke. 

"  In  words  of  one  syllable,  you  mean,  what  do  I  do  ?  " 

"  Y-yes,  something  of  the  sort." 

"  Nothing,"  he  answered  blandly,  and  looked  more  charm- 
ing than  ever. 

"  You  mean  you  don*t  work?  " 

"  Doing  nothing  is  awful  work  and  often  a  bore  in  the 
bargain.  Why  should  I  work,  Twinkletoes?  My  father 
did  all  that  in  his  lifetime.  He  fixed  it  so  that  there  was  no 
possible  chance  of  my  ever  becoming  useful." 

She  laughed  without  condemnation. 

"  Mistaken  kindness,  wasn't  it  ?  You  poor  boy,  what  a 
heritage !    But  then,  I  suppose  you  are  horribly  wealthy." 

"  Oh,  horribly,"  he  drawled  without  hesitation.    "  That 

makes  almost  everything  valueless,  save Well,  you 

know  the  things  that  can't  be  bought,  happiness — ^love."  He 
smiled  to  avoid  becoming  banal.  "  What  a  pretty  hand  you 
have,  Twinkletoes !  I  should  like  to  cover  it  with  dewdrop- 
diamonds.    It  is  the  frailest,  tiniest  hand  in  the  world." 

She  became  feminine. 

"  Oh,  no.     I've  known  smaller." 

"  So  have  I,"  he  came  back  promptly,  "  Mrs.  Tom 
Thumb's." 

And  in  such  guise  passed  the  gossamer  hours  of  that 
elusive  day,  to  be  followed  by  many  such,  for,  inconsistent 
as  it  may  seem  of  Agnes*  stem  conventionality,  she  per- 
mitted them  to  go  about  almost  entirely  unchaperoned. 
Joan,  rejoicing  in  her  leniency,  was  yet  amused  by  such 
elastic  principles,  stretching  indefinitely,  it  would  seem,  to 
accommodate  one  of  Bret's  social  pretensions.  No  such  in- 
dulgence was  accorded  Qaire,  who,  it  was  soon  to  develop. 


INFATUATION  159 

had  looked  in  another  direction  at  a  far  less  promising  can- 
didate. It  may  be  said,  in  extenuation  of  Agnes'  irrational 
regime,  that  her  own  personal  affairs  were  in  chaotic  state. 
She  had  lacked  entirely  the  finesse  to  play  successfully  with 
Godfrey:  at  the  first  sign  of  his  vanquishment  she  had  be- 
trayed her  hand,  she  had  thrown  herself  at  his  head,  and 
from  the  overdose  of  cloying  affection  she  had  become  pro- 
prietary, nagging,  and  aggrieved. 

"What  has  happened?"  Joan  besought  him  when  she 
found  that  the  circle  had  completed  its  course  and  Godfrey 
was  again  leaving  Agnes  alone  in  the  domestic  bastille.  "  I 
thought — we  all  thought  you  were  having  a  relapse  of 
honeymoon ! " 

This  was  a  purely  morose  Godfrey,  but  no  longer 
flippant. 

"  She  won't  let  me  breathe/*  was  the  terse  explanation. 
"  I  can't  expand,  and  I'm  smothering." 

Agnes'  allies,  her  sisters,  were  each  whirling  toward  a 
vortex  of  infatuation,  and  she  was  left  upon  her  own  luck- 
less resources.  When  Claire  one  day  presented  her  ulti- 
matum, Agnes  was  sunk  in  melancholy,  yet  not  too  far  gone 
to  remember  the  false  standards  of  her  lifetime. 

"  Rutherford !  "  she  echoed  incredulously,  "  and  you  say 
you  have  been  seeing  him  all  along?  How  could  I  know 
you  were  attracted  to  him  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  must  have  known,"  answered  Qaire,  twist- 
ing her  hands.    "  I  think  every  one  must  have  known." 

"  But  then,  of  all  things,  for  you  to  have  started  in  such 
a  questionable  way,  meeting  him  outside  the  house.  What- 
ever made  you  do  it,  Claire  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  instinct  made  me  do  it.  I  suppose  I  must 
have  felt  that  we'd  never  come  closer  together  unless  I  did. 
And  I'm  glad.  But  now — now,  Aggie,  I  want  your  home 
for  my  background.    I  want  it  very  much,  Agnes,  and  I'm 


l6o  BLIND  WISDOM 

immensely  earnest.    Can't  you — won't  you **    Claire, 

who  was  never  the  least  humble,  was  humbling  herself  now. 
As  there  was  no  answer  from  Agnes  the  color  surged  up 
into  her  face  painfully.  "  Otherwise,"  she  explained,  with 
a  tiny  sharp  edge  to  her  voice,  "  we'll  have  to  go  on  in  the 
same  compromising  way ! " 

The  unpleasant  light  of  understanding  dawned  slowly  in 
Agnes'  face. 

"And  you  say  if  you  cannot  receive  him  here  you  will  go 
elsewhere." 

"  Yes,"  smiled  Claire  ironically,  her  eyes  and  lips  brilliant ; 
"how  clever  of  you  to  understand!  We  have  to  see  each 
other,  and  there's  nothing  against  him  but  his  profession. 
Naturally,  I'd  much  prefer  to  do  the  honest  thing,  be  with 
him  openly.    Will  you  give  your  consent  ?  " 

"  Never,**  retorted  Agnes  without  the  slightest  hesitation, 
"  never  in  my  house.  Why,  Claire,  you're  perfectly  regard- 
less to  have  gone  on  like  this,  to  have  encouraged  him  under 
cover — and  I've  always  thought  you  had  balance !  " 

"  That's  just  it,  as  I've  been  trying  to  explain.  I  hated  it, 
Ridgely  hated  it,  meeting  in  hotels  or  restaurants.  I  don't 
want  to  be  under  cover.  I've  lived  in  the  open  all  my  life ! 
Oh,  Aggie,  you  can  put  the  right  interpretation  upon  it  once 
and  for  all,  if  you  will.  Be  human  enough  to  reinstate  us 
with  ourselves." 

"  But,"  reasoned  Agnes  obtusely,  "  his  family  are  nobodies 
in  all  probability,  and  your  family  hasn't  given  him  any  sign 
of  approbation.     Don't  you  appreciate  my  position  ?  " 

Claire,  like  most  intense  natures,  could  be  cruel  on  occa- 
sion, and  the  venom  in  her  flared. 

"Is  it  any  madder  than  your  marriage  with  Godfrey? 
His  family  were  somebodies  and  yours  had  given  him  the 
sign  of  approbation,  and  yet " 

Instantly  the  tears  began  to  flow,  but  Agnes'  was  a  one- 


INFATUATION  l6l 

way  mind.  It  buttoned  in  the  back,  as  Joan  was  fond  of 
remarking,  so  that  Agnes  could  not  get  outside  herself  for 
a  moment. 

"  No,  I'm  sorry,  but  I  can't  give  in,  Claire." 

Gradually  Claire  had  paled,  and  now  her  defiant  young 
lips  were  drawn  back  over  her  teeth. 

"  So  then  you  insist  upon  a  sub  rosa." 

"  I  shall  insist,"  Agnes  caught  her  up  sententiously,  "  on 
telling  Mother  the  whole  story.     My  duty " 

But  she  broke  off  in  dismay.  Claire  was  dead  white  and 
her  hair  seemed  flaming.  She  bent  over  Agnes  with' 
clenched  hands. 

"  Don't  do  it,  Agnes ;  that's  all  I  have  to  say.  Don't 
do  it." 

For  a  full  moment  she  stood  swaying  there  with  her  im- 
plied threat,  while  Agnes  cowered  in  terror  beneath  her. 
Then,  still  strangely  pale  and  luminous,  Claire  fastened  her 
furs  and  marched  out  into  the  November  wind  to  meet 
Rutherford  ignominiously  on  the  sly. 

Joan  was  gentler  in  her  infatuation,  but  the  experience, 
colored  by  her  mentality  and  imagination,  was  in  every  way 
more  idealistic  than  Claire's.  She  invested  Ballou  with  a 
nobility  he  could  ill  have  worn,  binding  him  with  delicate 
threads  into  the  fabric  of  her  life,  identifying  him  with  past, 
present  and  future  circumstance.  And  yet  their  playtime 
was  comparatively  brief,  a  score  or  more  of  days  such  as 
the  first  had  been,  packed  with  personal  discoveries,  and  all 
her  bright-minted  love  his  for  the  taking.  When  Ballou 
paused  to  think  at  all,  he  would  say,  "  Life  owes  it  me.  I 
shall  do  her  no  harm,"  and  the  like. 

Since  Joan's  and  Bret's  meeting  Joan  had  seen  Jerry  but 
once.  He  had  come  straight  from  a  stimulating  interview 
with  an  important  producer,  had  come  exuberant,  only  to 
find  that  the  "  ladies  "  were  out.    But  Agnes'  prim  draw- 


i62  BLIND  WISDOM 

ing-room  in  which  he  waited  was  effusive  with  flowers,  and 
the  fact  perplexed  him.  Surely  they  were  striking  an  un- 
wonted pace,  and  though  he  had  no  fears  for  Joan's  reaction, 
he  frowned.  It  must  have  been  an  hour  of  gradually 
waning  warmth  for  his  enthusiasms  before  the  bell  sounded 
and  Hannah  admitted  Joan  and  Ballou,  with  stars  of  snow 
upon  their  furs. 

"  Who  is  it  ? "  asked  Ballou  annoyedly  in  the  outer  halL 
"Any  one  I  know  ?  " 

"  My  dearest  friend  on  earth,"  whispered  back  Joan, 
"  Jerry  Callendar.  I  want  you  to  meet  him.  Oh,  Jerry," 
she  blew  into  the  room  freshly,  "  where  on  earth  have  you 
been  keeping  yourself?  I've  gone  Uterally  to  rack  and  ruin 
on  the  wave  of  pleasure.  Why,  Jerry,  how  solemn  you 
look!" 

Mentally  she  reached  behind  her  for  Ballou. 

"  Bret,  this  is  my  old  and  eternal  friend,  Jerry  Callendar." 

At  the  words  Jerry's  eyes  broke  from  Joan's  sensitive 
face  with  sharp  expectancy  to  Ballou's.  There  may  have 
been  something  of  apprehension  in  that  look,  though  Jerry 
would  scarcely  have  allowed  jealousy  to  trespass  on  his  soul. 

"  Jerry,  please  know  my  new  friend,  Bret  Ballou."  She 
came  fearlessly  between  them  and  joined  their  hands  with 
one  of  her  own. 

"There,"  she  said,  giving  them  a  cozy  and  affectionate 
pat,  "  now  like  one  another !  " 

Instantly  Jerry  concealed  misgivings  and  set  a  smile  at 
his  door.  He  was  both  shorter  and  stronger  in  build  than 
Ballou,  but  his  straight-searching  and  kindling  gaze  earned 
the  effect  of  high  places. 

"  We  can  scarcely  do  otherwise  after  such  a  recommenda- 
tion," opined  Ballou  smoothly,  and  the  three  came  to  con- 
vene on  the  divan  before  the  fire.  There,  while  Hannah 
served  tea,  the  girl's  efforts  were  directed  toward  putting 


INFATUATION  163 

the  men  on  the  equal  ground  for  which  she  had  hoped.  And 
Jerry,  being  for  the  time  between  an  angel  and  a  fool, 
played  his  part  accordingly,  letting  her  feel  that  he  accepted 
Ballou  at  her  own  estimate.  But  Ballou,  innately  arrogant, 
could  not  tolerate  the  easy  honors,  and  must  now  and  then 
perform  some  proprietary  act  that  caused  Jerry  to  lift  his 
mental  eyebrows. 

He  had  come,  poor  Jerry,  to  confide  in  Joan  the  business 
crisis  of  his  life,  he  had  come,  hungry  for  her  warm  co* 
operation,  and  yet  not  one  word  could  he  utter  of  him- 
self. 

When  he  had  withdrawn  as  gracefully  as  possible  and  was 
fumbling  with  his  scarf  in  the  hall,  Agnes,  who  had  arrived 
in  the  interim,  leaned  over  the  balustrade. 

"  That  you,  Jerry  ?  Will  you  come  up  ?  I  should  like  a 
word  with  you."  And  when  he  had  climbed  the  stairs  to  the 
lofty  atmosphere  of  her  sitting-room,  where  Agnes  worked 
and  thought  and  prayed,  she  asked  him  abruptly: 

"  What  do  you  know  of  Rutherford,  that  young  actor?" 

"  Ridgely  Rutherford  ?  "  repeated  Jerry,  seating  himself 
on  the  edge  of  a  chair  draped  with  sewing,  "  oh,  every- 
thing." Instantly  he  was  cognizant  of  the  fact  that  Claire's 
flirtation  had  been  discovered. 

"  Rutherford's  a  very  decent  chap,"  he  answered,  bent 
upon  discretion.  "  Oh,  yes,  there's  nothing  against  him,  so 
far  as  I  know.  He  appreciates  the  emotional  element  both 
on  the  stage  and  off,  naturally — that's  why  he's  an  actor! 
He  never  forgets  he's  an  actor  for  a  moment;  he  never 
ceases  to  act,  but  that  doesn't  imply  that  he's  insincere.  He 
simply  gives  himself  in  real  life  as  on  the  stage  the  best  in- 
terpretation that  he's  capable  of.  He  has  no  end  of  per- 
sonality and  could  charm  a  bird  off  a  bush.  Is  there  any- 
thing else  you  would  like  to  know?" 

"  Yes-s,"  puzzled  Agnes,  who  was  not  quite  certain  that 


i64  BLIND  WISDOM" 

she  understood  him.  "  Has  he  a  family — I  mean  of  conse- 
quence ?  " 

Jerry  smiled  broadly. 

"  I  should  think  it  probable  that  he  had  a  couple  of  parents 
at  one  time.  Some  one  was  particular  to  send  him  to  col- 
lege, where  he  distinguished  himself  in  dramatics  and  re- 
ceived an  offer  from  a  New  York  manager.  That  is  all  I 
know  of  his  life,  though,  as  Lincoln  once  said,  there  may  be 
a  rat-hole  that  needs  looking  into." 

Jerry,  who  hated  personal  gossip,  rose  almost  immediately. 

"And  what,"  he  startled  Agnes  by  asking,  "  do  you  know 
of  Joan's  young  man  ?  " 

Agnes  was  not  always  a  dullard.  She  resented  even  such 
delicate  ridicule  and  did  not  care  to  provoke  more  of  it. 

"  Mr.  Ballou  ? "  she  countered,  exactly  as  he  had  done. 
"  Oh,  everything !  Grodf rey  has  known  the  family  for 
years,"  and  she  folded  her  knitting  with  an  air  of  finality. 

When  Jerry  had  left  the  house  he  told  himself  that  it 
was  part  cf  Joan's  development  that  she  should  learn  to 
play  at  the  eternal  game  of  love;  he  vjtnt  further,  he  said 
that  he  was  glad  she  had  selected  for  a  first  encounter  such 
a  well-set-up  type  as  Ballou  appeared  to  be.  But  he  was 
obliged  to  try  three  times  before  he  could  swallow  the 
monstrous  pill. 

It  may  be  credited  only  as  a  phenomenon  that  the  wild 
flower  of  Joan's  infatuation  was  allowed  to  grow  to  full 
fruition  with  no  pruning  hand  to  curb  or  direct  it.  It  was 
while  she  was  thus  realizing  her  womanhood  that  a  cold 
hand  descended  upon  her,  turning  her,  as  she  had  said  of 
the  flowers,  "  panicky  with  frost."  This  hand  assumed  the 
guise  of  a  telegram  sent  conjointly  to  them  all. 

**  Come  home  at  once.     Father  seriously  ill. 

(Signed)    "  Mother." 


CHAPTER  XVI 
THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW 

It  was  nightfall  of  a  chilly  December  day  when  the  three 
sisters  alighted  from  the  train  at  Crannsford.  Their  jour- 
ney had  been  in  a  sense  spiritual,  a  pilgrimage  toward  they 
knew  not  what  destination  of  sorrow  or  changed  circum- 
stance. It  was  interminable,  as  such  journeys  usually  are, 
and  the  gloomy  aspect  of  the  day  contributed  to  their  deep 
melancholy. 

Their  mother  had  written  that  the  touring  car  had  been 
sold,  but  it  had  scarcely  occurred  to  them  that  Thomas,  its 
adornment,  would  be  gone  simultaneously,  since  the  car  was 
his  raison  d'etre.  In  place  of  it  stood  an  ancient  vehicle 
resurrected  from  the  cobwebs  of  the  Wister  stable  and 
drawn  by  a  pensioned  horse  that  was  finding  the  perform- 
ance the  event  of  its  old  age.  And,  as  a  crowning  insult, 
there  was  Columbus,  rusty  in  an  outworn  coachman's  jacket, 
and  gesticulating  wildly. 

Claire  gave  an  outraged  sniff,  but  Joan  burst  into  laugh- 
ter; she  would  have  laughed  at  her  own  funeral  had  she 
glimpsed  the  ludicrous  turn-out. 

"  What  can  Mother  be  thinking  of  ?  "  cried  Claire,  look- 
ing about  her  for  public  opinion. 

"  Why  couldn't  we  better  have  taken  a  motor  from  the 
station?"  seconded  Agnes,  lifting  her  short  nose  disdain- 
fully.   "  Oh,  I  call  this  a  shame ! " 


i66  BLIND  WISDOM 

All  had  forgotten  that  in  the  Morrow  family  one  must 
eschew  hired  vehicles.  Mrs.  Wister  had  intimated  as  much 
to  Columbus,  who  had  cocked  his  head  bird-wise  at  her  and 
assured  her  it  could  be  managed. 

"  We  may  as  well  make  the  best  of  it,"  Joan  rallied  them, 
and  she  started  forward  with  tender  amusement,  her  heart 
going  out  to  the  queer  old  man  who  was  in  his  seventh 
heaven  upholding  the  family  pride. 

"  You  dear  old  Columbus,"  she  greeted  the  ragamuffin 
tenderly,  "  how  good  of  you  to  come !  I  haven't  ridden  in 
this  dog-cart  since  I  was  a  child.  I'll  take  the  place  of 
honor  beside  you,"  and  as  they  jerked  along  she  asked  with 
trepidation : 

"  Is — is  my  father  very  ill,  Columbus  ?  " 

"  My  ol'  woman  'lows  it's  the  last.  She  seen  it  in  the 
leaves." 

"Leaves?" 

"  Yep,  tea." 

Joan  caught  the  lugubrious  inference. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  forgot.  But  let's  hope  tea  is  not  infallible, 
Columbus." 

Columbus'  jaws  worked  with  a  gentle  but  stubborn 
rhythm  the  while  the  devitalized  horse  was  drawing  them 
slowly  up  a  hill. 

"  It  is — tea  is  that,  what  you  said,"  he  affirmed  at  length. 
"  It  ain't  never  tol'  Lishaby  no  lie." 

"  Oh,  Columbus ! "  sighed  Joan  in  remonstrance. 

How  still  the  old  town  seemed  after  the  loud  traffic  of  the 
city,  how  dwarfed  and  musty  the  shops  where  she  had 
traded  since  childhood!  The  bare  trees  stood  forlorn  as 
spinsters.  The  air  was  cold,  yet  breathless,  and  a  blue  haze 
hung  in  the  fir  trees  that  fringed  the  lawns.  The  earth,  with 
here  and  there  a  hard  patch  of  ice  upon  it,  seemed  hopeless 
of  rejuvenation.     And  all  the  way  home  she  was  struggling 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  167 

to  make  the  transition  from  life  and  love  and  happiness  to 
the  probability  of  death  and  desolation.  Though  she  had 
taken  Columbus'  advent  with  the  old  dog-cart  gallantly,  it 
had  stood  as  immensely  symbolic  in  her  eyes. 

Ellen,  the  housemaid,  now  married  and  matronly,  opened 
the  door  for  them  and  almost  at  once  their  mother  came 
running  lightly  down.  Her  hair  had  turned  grayer  in  their 
absence,  a  secret  stoicism  had  crept  into  her  face,  and  she 
reminded  Joan  of  a  snowbird,  aloof  and  still.  When  she 
spoke  her  voice  was  low  with  that  quality  which  aims  to  be 
cheerful  and  succeeds  in  being  terribly  depressing.  It  was 
as  though  she  dreaded  to  speak  louder  and  waken  her 
dreaming  sensibilities. 

She  kissed  each  as  a  ghost  might  kiss,  her  frail  fingers 
wavered  over  each  face. 

"  Father  is  better,  dears,  much  better,"  she  breathed. 
"  He  is  waiting  to  see  you,"  and,  drawing  them  into  the 
dining-room,  she  told  them  the  circumstances  of  his  illness. 

Bad  news  had  precipitated  it,  competition  having  crowded 
Jonathan's  freight  line  to  the  wall.  He  was  old,  he  was  ill, 
his  methods  were  obsolete  and  his  mode  of  management,  at 
long  range,  had  proven  impracticable.  A  son  might  have 
saved  the  day,  but  all  his  sons  were  daughters. 

"A  letter  came  yesterday  and  after  he  had  read  it  the 
spirit  seemed  to  go  out  of  him.  He  wouldn't  have  his 
supper,  and  when  Sammy  went  in  to  undress  him  he  found 
that  he  had  fallen  out  of  his  chair,"  the  tale  ran  com- 
prehensively. "  We  got  him  to  bed  and  sent  for  the  doctor, 
but  it  was  a  long  time  before  he  rallied.  The  doctor  called 
it  a  slight  stroke." 

"And  now ?  "  they  demanded  in  unison. 

"  Now,  he's  sitting  in  his  chair  again,  perfectly  rational. 
He's  more  comfortable  that  way  and  it's  better  for  his  heart. 
We  have  a  nurse  with  him.     If  you  go  in,  speak  to  him  very 


i68  BLIND  WISDOM 

quietly  and  try  to  remember  that  though  he  says  he  feels 
perfectly  well,  he's  really  extremely  weak." 

They  did  so  by  turn,  and  at  each  appearance  the  bluif 
old  man,  who  would  never  say  "  die,"  plucked  up  the  spirit 
for  a  little  demonstration. 

"All  damned  nonsense,"  he  wheezed,  with  his  fierce  but 
suddenly  affectionate  eyes  riveted  upon  each  girl,  "  never 
felt  fitter !     Have  you  come  home  to  stay  ?  " 

In  those  words  he  betrayed  his  loneliness.  And  immedi- 
ately after  he  made  his  stock  apology. 

"  D'ye  miss  the  car  ?  Your  ma  seldom  used  it.  None 
o'  you'll  be  stayin'  in  Crannsford  long,  and  what  was  the 
use?  And  that  Thomas — I  don't  know  for  my  part  what 
labor  is  comin'  to, — a  hundred  a  month  and  silk  shirts  and 
things.  Used  to  have  his  nails  pared  by  a  professional 
after  he'd  get  through  tinkerin'  with  the  engine.'*  His 
native  humor  welled  feebly  in  his  eyes.  "  You  didn't  mind 
the  old  trap,  did  ye  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Father,"  cried  Joan,  with  a  catch  in  her  throat, 
"don't  apologize!  You  give  us,  you  always  have  given 
us — everything."  Her  voice  in  terms  of  intimacy  smote  un- 
familiarly  on  her  ears.  She  was  saying  to  Time,  "  Wait," 
to  Fate,  "  Stand  back,  give  us  a  little  longer  to  atone  for  our 
hiding  and  shirking !  " 

So  urgent  was  this  voice  within  her,  so  agonizing  her 
sudden  perception  of  his  goodness,  that  when  night  came 
she  could  not  rest.  Claire  and  Agnes,  utterly  fatigued,  had 
gone  to  bed  to  sleep,  but  Joan  was  lying  abnormally  keen 
and  sensitive  to  each  sound.  She  heard  again  Columbus' 
voice,  "  It's  true — the  tea  don't  lie,"  and  her  own  heart  con- 
firmed the  prophecy.  She  longed  to  clear  up  difficulties 
between  her  father  and  herself,  to  lift  the  barrier,  and  yet 
she  despaired  of  doing  so  because  she  did  not  know  what  the 
barrier  was.    Possibly  her  mother  knew,  possibly  it  was 


THE  VA1.LEY  OF  THE  SHADOW         169 

her  mother  who  had  built  the  intangible  wall  and  told  them 
without  words  which  side  they  were  to  stay  on.  Yet  she 
had  no  bitterness  toward  her  mother,  whose  married  life 
must  have  been  a  very  strange  psychological  experience. 
Every  clock  in  the  house  was  ticking  mournfully  now  and 
accenting  its  thought  with  an  occasional  boom.  A  rat 
scurried  across  the  floor  on  some  dark  errand  of  its  own. 
Outside  it  had  begun  to  snow  and  the  heavy  flakes  sobbed 
softly  against  the  window,  like  the  tears  of  one  who  must 
lament  in  secret.  She  would  have  liked  to  go  to  her  mother, 
but  she  felt  that  her  mother  too  struggled  in  a  press  of  con- 
flicting emotions. 

All  at  once  she  could  stand  it  no  longer.  Slipping  from 
bed,  she  wrapped  herself  in  a  gown  and  crept  down-stairs. 
The  nurse  slept  on  a  cot  in  her  father's  room,  but  her 
father  would  be  bolt  upright  in  his  chair,  awake  perhaps, 
awake  in  the  cold  blue  dusk,  and  alone  as  he  had  been  these 
many,  many  years,  because  they  had  thought  him  too  rough 
and  hard  to  companion.  She  opened  the  door  a  crack  and 
peered  in.  It  was  as  she  had  anticipated,  only  the  room  was 
lighter;  the  unearthly  radiance  of  the  snow  reflected  through 
the  long  windows. 

She  saw  quite  plainly  the  big  chair  with  its  trailing 
blankets  and  the  huge  old  man  motionless  there  as  though 
carven  from  marble  and  nearly  as  white.  She  yearned  to 
go  to  him  and  impress  her  warmth  upon  him,  to  caress  him 
without  reservation,  and  her  heart  beat  very  fast. 

"Who  is  it?"  asked  the  nurse,  stirring.  "Do  you  want 
something?" 

"  It  is  I,  Joan,"  she  answered,  growing  self-conscious  and 
trying  to  appear  casual.  "  I  couldn't  sleep  and  I  thought  I 
would  find  out  if  my  father  is  all  right." 

The  sick  man's  eyes  opened,  but  he  did  not  speak.  He 
seemed  not  surprised  nor  unpleased  at  her  presence  there 


170  BLIND  WISDOM 

in  the  dead  of  night.  As  she  came  closer  he  could  catcK 
the  dainty  fragrance  of  her  disordered  hair  and  the  fresh 
linen  smell  of  her  night-dress. 

"Are  you  cold?"  whispered  Joan,  and  began  timidly  ar- 
ranging the  blankets.  *'  I  thought  you  might  be,"  and  then, 
with  a  great  effort,  "Are  you  lonesome,  Daddy  ?  "  It  was 
the  one  time  of  her  life  when  she  employed  that  fond  name. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  unexpectedly,  "  it's  a  black  business,  this 
getting  old — but  you'd  better  run  along  to  bed." 

The  hoarse  admission  seemed  to  tighten  some  screw 
within  her.  She  flushed  exquisitely  there  in  the  dark,  and 
the  brave  fingers  that  had  been  busied  with  the  blanket 
came  lovingly  to  his  face.  Her  loosened  hair  hung  over 
him,  and  all  at  once  her  wet,  soft  cheek  was  buried  close 
to  his. 

"  I  love  you,"  she  sobbed.  "  I  want  you  to  know  that  I 
love  you.     Oh,  Father !  " 

And  then  she  fled  back  to  bed,  her  sobs  gradually  dimin- 
ishing till  something  like  a  smile  rested  on  her  face.  She 
slept  as  exhausted  children  do,  with  both  arms  flung  out  on 
the  sheet  at  either  side,  lying  as  straight  as  a  crucifix  in  bed. 

For  nearly  a  week  it  snowed,  and  in  that  time  Jonathan 
Wister  had  sustained  a  second  hemorrhage  of  the  brain. 
The  upper  part  of  his  body  and  a  portion  of  his  face  were 
paralyzed  by  this  last  stroke,  so  that  now  he  was  little  more 
than  a  useless  bulk.  Death  crept  upon  him  as  clouds  im- 
pinge upon  the  living  blue  of  the  sky,  but  his  spirit  remained 
unconquerable. 

During  that  week  of  white  oblivion  Joan  wandered  about 
the  house  on  tiptoe,  seeming  In  secret  communion  with  the 
snow.  It  fell  with  silver-soft  discretion,  voiceless,  yet  all- 
pervasive,  taking  the  trees  to  itself,  and  the  outraged  earth, 
fold  under  fold.    When  she  threw  up  the  window  and 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  171 

leaned  across  the  powdery  sill,  it  was  snowed  under  with 
fantastic  curves,  and  spying  upon  out-of-doors  was  like 
blundering  into  a  holy  intimacy,  so  marvellous  was  the 
mechanism  of  the  storm.  From  the  sky  the  white,  pitying 
hands  fluttered  down  upon  objects  and  persons  already 
cradled  to  peace;  there  was  no  end  to  its  beneficence.  She 
thought  of  the  hillside  and  the  wild  wood  with  its  intricate 
life,  of  the  gentle  moaning  of  the  pine  trees  in  the  wind,  con- 
stantly shifting  and  changing  beneath  their  burden  of  snow. 
When  her  father  went  surely  he  would  take  the  open  trail, 
scorning  all  others,  and  she  seemed  to  see  him  disappearing 
into  the  wood,  leaving  his  disabilities  behind,  like  a  boy  let 
out  of  school.  In  the  uncanny  hush  of  those  days  she  tried 
to  become  reconciled  to  the  human  process  from  dust  to  flesh 
and  from  flesh  to  dust,  but  the  design  of  the  Almighty 
eluded  her.  There  was  a  hurt,  sore  spot  at  the  depth  of  her 
being.  As  to  their  own  failing  fortunes,  she  was  not  as  yet 
ready  to  cope  with  that  eventuality.  No  doubt  the  big 
house  would  have  to  go,  and  they  would  be  genteelly  poor, 
but  the  prospect  seemed  too  remote  to  be  appalling.  It  was 
only  vaguely  distasteful.  Her  courage  would  go  so  far  and 
no  farther,  reeling  back  from  difficult  footing. 

While  she  waited  she  recalled  Bret  in  illuminated  vision, 
advancing  their  lovering  without  stint  now  that  she  was 
thrust  into  this  dependency.  With  youth's  cruelty,  her 
thought  fled  from  all  the  friends  whose  tenderness  would 
be  ready  to  embrace  her  in  this  crisis.  She  even  fled  from 
Jerry,  who  was  telephoning  daily  and  daily  sending  her  por- 
tions of  his  strength.  Jerry  was  not  particularly  real  to  her 
just  then.  It  was  her  potential  mate  she  wanted.  Her 
longing  was  the  more  intense  in  that  it  was  so  secret  and  so 
proud. 

But  at  times  she  could  rise  above  herself  to  comprehend 
keenly  what  was  going  on  about  her.     For  instance,  the 


172  BLIND  WISDOM 

amazing  evolution  of  her  mother.  Mrs.  Wister  never  left 
her  husband  now,  but  whereas  she  had  formerly  approached 
him  with  trepidation  and  defiance,  now  her  way  seemed 
smooth,  a  strange  serenity  upon  her.  It  was  as  though  she 
had  spoken  with  the  angel  that  approached  and  prayed  in- 
dulgence for  the  sufferer  waiting  beneath  the  shadow  of 
the  white  wings.  It  was  not  until  he  had  partially  lost  the 
use  of  speech  that  he  needed  no  interpreter  to  speak  to  her. 
She  heard  him  now,  each  word,  and  she  answered  all  with 
her  eyes,  her  hands,  her  ineffable  tenderness.  For  the  first 
time  in  their  lives  they  were  in  their  hearts  mated. 

The  snow  said,  "  Sleep,  sleep,  sleep,"  but  Jonathan  could 
not  sleep  quite  then  for  wonder  at  the  blessedness  of  his  lot. 

All  night  the  three  daughters  listened  to  a  strange  con- 
versation, a  conversation  limited  to  three  words. 

"  Jenny." 

"  Yes,  Jonathan." 

That  was  their  communion.  Over  and  over  the  fumbling 
voice  of  his  spirit  calling  upon  her,  and  over  and  over  the 
reassurance.     "  Jenny."    "  Yes,  Jonathan."    "  Jenny." 

Early  in  the  morning  she  entered  the  room  where  the 
three  had  waited  without  undressing.  It  had  ceased  snow- 
ing at  last,  and  Mrs.  Wister  stood  in  a  long,  sweet  shaft  of 
light.     She  was  almost  startling  in  her  radiance, 

"  Dear  Father  has  fallen  asleep,"  she  said. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
THE  PINCH  O'  POVERTY 

It  was  certainly  the  irony  of  Fate  that  Jenny  Wister, 
who  had  married  for  fortune  and  borne  a  sad  heart  along 
the  road  of  thirty  years,  should  be  left  a  nearly  penniless 
widow.  But  the  fact,  however  ironical,  was  not  nearly  so 
surprising  as  Jenny's  manner  of  receiving  the  blow.  There 
was  good  stuff  in  the  Morrows,  certainly,  yet  it  is  to  be 
doubted  that  she  could  have  shown  such  stoicism  had  she 
not,  prior  to  Jonathan's  death,  undergone  some  psychic 
change. 

When  her  daughters,  sitting  among  the  financial  ruins, 
had  cried  to  her,  "  But  this  is  terrible — terrible  for  you," 
she  had  answered,  "  Why  is  it  terrible  ?  Noblesse  oblige. 
Nothing  can  hurt  me  if  I  show  I  am  not  hurt,  and  that  Is 
the  truth.  I  mind  very  little  for  myself.  It  is  only  for  you 
that  I  mind.  However,  Agnes  has  a  husband,  and  I  dare 
say  Joan  and  Claire  sowed  seeds  while  they  were  in  the 
city." 

Both  younger  girls  looked  conscious,  but  divulged  nothing. 

"And  of  course  the  first  thing  will  be  to  sell  the  house," 
suggested  Agnes  with  bleak  common  sense.  "  You  and 
the  girls  must  find  a  little  place  near  me." 

"  Must  we  ?  "  Jenny  Wister  smoothed  her  black  dress 
with  a  frail  but  capable  hand.  "  I  think  not,  Agnes.  Claire 
and  Joan  may  live  in  the  city — in  fact,  I  should  prefer  it. 
I've  always  held  there  Is  no  future  for  them  here.  But  I — 
don't  smile — I  should  like  to  live  on  in  the  house  your 
father  was  so  greatly  attached  to." 


174  BLIND  WISDOM 

"  Mother,  how  can  you  dream  of  such  a  thing?  It  was 
Father's  folly,  his  white  elephant.  You  could  never  af- 
ford it." 

"I'll  make  the  house  self-supporting,"  declared  Mrs. 
Wister  with  energy.  "And  I'll  do  it  without  humbling  my- 
self an  iota.  What  would  you  say  to  *  paying  guests ' — de- 
lightful, discriminating  people  who  would  consider  them- 
selves honored  to  come  under  my  roof  ?  " 

"  But  all  alone  here " 

"  I  shouldn't  be  alone.  I  have  Lishaby  and  Columbus, 
and  Ellen,  who  wouldn't  dream  of  leaving,  even  if  it  is  a 
scuttling  ship.     Beside,"  she  added  enigmatically,  "  I  feel 

less  lonely  now "    Then  broke  off  in  despair  at  ever 

making  them  understand. 

During  the  jeopardy  of  the  weeks  that  followed,  while 
creditors  flocked  and  the  platter  was  licked  literally  clean, 
it  was  Jenny's  fortitude  that  saved  the  day.  Some  of  the 
choicest  of  their  furniture  was  obliged  to  go,  but  when  the 
avid  public  came  to  buy  it  found  her  still  the  great  lady, 
gracious,  with  reservations,  never  to  be  patronized,  at  the 
age  of  fifty-five  making  it  seem  her  whim  to  be  revolu- 
tionizing her  household. 

Profoundly  moved  by  the  crisis,  missing  as  she  had  not 
known  she  could  miss  the  fierce  regime  of  her  father's  life- 
time, Joan  wandered  about  the  disordered  house,  seeking 
a  new  road  to  happiness.  She  was  naturally  of  a  resource- 
ful and  happy  disposition,  but  the  circumstances  were  such 
as  to  weigh  heavily  upon  her  buoyant  nature.  When  she 
passed  through  the  gloom  of  the  hall  she  would  fancy  again 
and  again  that  she  heard  the  wheels  of  her  father's  chair, 
sharp  on  the  floor  and  muffled  on  the  rugs,  and  would  dash 
into  the  study  with  the  uncanny  expectation  of  finding  him 
there.  There  was  dust  now  on  the  revolving  earth-globe 
which  he  had  been  wont  to  study,  an  air  of  finality  to  his 


THE  PINCH  O'  POVERTY  175 

desk  with  the  pens  rusting  in  the  holders,  and  in  a  corner 
stood  the  heavy  wheel-chair  with  a  spider  weaving  sur- 
reptitiously across  one  arm.  She  would  go  to  it  irreso- 
lutely and  stand  looking  down,  wishing  that  she  might  see 
his  rugged  form  again,  wishing  that  he  were  alive  to 
frighten  her,  and  then,  finding  the  truth  intolerable,  would 
dash  out  into  the  winter  sunlight  with  the  tears  heavy  in 
her  eyes. 

Once  she  consulted  old  Lishaby  over  the  tea-leaves,  pluck- 
ing up  a  feeble  excitement  at  the  inevitable  "  dark-cora- 
plected  gumpman"  in  the  cup,  but  it  developed  that  poor 
Lishaby  was  half  blind  and  her  charlatanism  had  lost  its 
plausibility. 

Only  one  striking  incident  colored  the  gray  monotony  of 
those  weeks.  Ridgely  Rutherford,  who  had  come  out 
from  town  with  the  pressing  urge  to  see  his  aunt,  Sadie 
Cornwall,  was  discovered  by  that  lady  walking  with  Claire 
Wister  over  a  frozen  country  road.  In  a  flutter  of  excite- 
ment she  had  preceded  the  oblivious  couple  into  town  (her 
new  electric  runabout  could  glide  faster  than  the  young 
people  walked),  and  calling  upon  Claire's  mother  had  in- 
formed her  gleefully  of  the  situation,  only  to  be  snubbed  for 
her  pains.  Mrs.  Wister  did  not  take  much  stock  in  Mrs. 
Cornwall,  who  was  sentimental  in  an  elephantine  way  and 
who  touched  up  her  front  hair.  The  name  "  Cornwall " 
had  never  been  identified  with  the  growth  of  Crannsford, 
save  in  a  purely  commercial  way,  Mr.  Cornwall  being  a 
manufacturer  of  suspenders.  "  Never  slip  "  was  the  Corn- 
wall trade-mark,  but  poor  Sadie,  leaving  the  Wister  house 
with  the  tatters  of  her  good  intentions,  was  inclined  to  think 
that  here  was  one  time  when  she  had  not  lived  up  to  the 
family  maxim. 

Seeing  them  in  that  way,  so  engrossed,  she  hoped — she 
said,  that  sornething  might  come  of  it.    Oaire  and  Ridgely 


1/6  BLIND  WISDOM 

were  both  such  dears,  possibly  they  had  met  in  the  interim, 
and  other  incoherencies !  Then  Mrs.  Wister,  with  a  return 
of  her  old-time  despotism,  had  hinted  to  Sadie  Cornwall  that, 
should  such  prove  the  case,  her  nephew — "  that  man,"  Mrs. 
Wister  was  moved  to  call  him, — would  certainly  be  con- 
sidered no  acquisition  to  her  family. 

Oh,  but  his  profession  should  not  make  her  intolerant, 
poor  Mrs.  Cornwall  had  timidly  pointed  out.  She  believed 
that  it  was  now  considered  quite  an  honorable  calling,  and 
where  love  entered  in,  it  was  surely  the  height  of  parental 
unselfishness  to  advance  no  barrier. 

"  You  must  let  me  be  the  judge,"  Mrs.  Wister  had  sug- 
gested with  acerbity,  "  of  that,"  and  when  Oaire  arrived 
with  guileless  mien,  she  invited  her  into  the  empty  sanctiun 
of  her  father,  where  the  two  were  closeted  for  an  hour. 

At  the  end  of  that  time  Claire  emerged,  very  brilliant, 
and  marched  straight  up  to  her  room,  crimson  as  a  danger 
signal.  In  fact,  her  whole  person  emanated  a  dangerous 
calm.  She  sang  clear  through  two  stanzas  of  a  song  with- 
out a  break  in  her  voice,  like  one  who  has  set  himself  a 
clear,  high  task.  But  Joan,  lingering  nervously  for  news 
of  the  encounter,  was  not  deceived.  She  entered  quietly 
and  seated  herself  on  Claire's  bed  amid  heaps  of  garments 
freshly  laundered.    And  at  last,  she  asked,  "  Who  is  he  ?  " 

"Ridgely  Rutherford,"  answered  Claire  as  concisely, 
"you  blind  little  bat!" 

"  Oh,"  breathed  Joan  with  growing  interest,  "  o-oh,  now  I 
see.  Of  course  that's  why  you've  been  so  self-contained 
and  clam-like.  Oh,  Claire,  how  perfectly  thrilling  that  is! 
When  you  go  back  to  New  York " 

"  I'm  not  going  back  to  New  York,"  Claire  interrupted, 
coolly. 

"  You've  changed  your  mind?  " 

**  My  mind  has  been  changed  for  me"  her  sister  amended 


THE  PINCH  O'  POVERTY  177 

drily.  "  No,  I'll  stay  on  in  Crannsford,  since  it's  Mother's 
will.  I  can't  very  well  defy  her  under  the  circumstances, 
but — she's  simply  postponing  the  day.  She's  simply  fanning 
the  flames  by  building  up  difficulties  about  us,  as  any  one 
with  half  an  eye  could  see." 

"  I'm  sure,"  Joan  reflected  sympathetically,  "  she  can't 
know  how  well  he  takes  his  part  in  *  For  Better  or  for 
Worse.' " 

Qaire  laughed  in  spite  of  herself,  and  that  laugh  did 
much  to  quiet  her  overwrought  nerves. 

"  Oh,  Joan,  you  are  rather  a  dear  youngster !  " 

But  she  was  hardly  prepared  for  the  "  dear  youngster's  " 
impulsive  confession. 

"If  I'm  sympathetic,  it's  because  I'm  in  love,  too.  I 
expect  I  shall  be  getting  married  one  of  these  days,  with  a 
train  ten  yards  long.  No,  I  don't  mean  that  literally,  be- 
cause I  loathe  conventional  marriages.  But  in  my  case  it's 
all  quite  clear  sailing,  I  didn't  premeditate  falling  in  love 
with  '  an  eligible  young  man,'  but  that  seems  to  be  what 
I've  done.  I  don't  have  to  tell  you  it's  Bret  Ballou."  She 
laughed  excitedly.  "  I'm  afraid  he's  even  rich,  Claire,  and 
he'll  probably  resuscitate  the  family  fortunes.  Only — I'm 
saving  it  as  a  surprise  for  Mother." 

Claire  kissed  her  dazedly. 

"  You  ?  You  seem  such  a  youngster.  However,  I  sup- 
pose it's  bound  to  happen,  and  I  do  hope  it's  all  right.  I 
saw  him,  of  course,  at  Agnes'.  I  mean,  I  was  aware  of 
him,  but  any  man  looks  like  the  wall  paper  after  you've  seen 
Ridgely."  She  did  not  really  mean  to  be  so  cruel  as  she 
sounded. 

Joan  hesitated  between  resentment  and  smiles,  and  the 
smiles  won  out. 

"As  for  your  'difficulties,  Claire,  all  true  love  runs  that 
way,  so  don't  be  discouraged.    Mine  seems  to  be  the  ex- 


1/8  BLIND  WISDOM 

ception.  Now  I'm  going  to  besiege  Mother  for  permission 
to  go  to  Agones'.  If  I  don't  see  him  soon,"  she  added  airily, 
"  I  shall  certainly  expire." 

When  Joan  reached  the  city  that  January  evening  she 
felt  too  impatient  even  to  herald  her  approach  by  tele- 
phone, so  that  it  was  a  much  surprised  Agnes  who  wel- 
comed her.  All  the  way  up-town  in  the  cab  she  had  been 
saying  to  herself,  "  Only  an  hour  or  two  before  I  shall  see 
him, — at  longest,  a  night ;  "  and  she  had  opened  the  window 
to  cool  her  head  that  had  begim  to  ache.  Oh,  life  was  full 
"of  a  number  of  things,"  but  the  greatest  of  these  was 
love. 

Agnes  and  Godfrey  were  finishing  dinner,  and  though 
their  treatment  of  her  was  affectionate  and  cordial  it  almost 
seemed  that  significant  glances  passed  between  them,  that 
their  manner  was  subtly  constrained.  After  Godfrey  had 
inquired  for  her  mother  and  Claire  and  they  had  indulged 
in  the  usual  post-mortems  that  follow  such  cataclysmic  hap- 
penings as  death  and  bankruptcy,  he  turned  to  his  evening 
paper.  Joan  was  impatient  for  him  to  be  off,  because  she 
wished  to  pump  Agnes  for  news  of  her  idol.  But  Godfrey 
dallied  interminably,  trivial  over  the  headings. 

"The  president  has  gone  to  bed  with  a  cold.  Humph, 
head  or  chest  not  stated ! "  Then  Agnes,  "  Let  me  make 
you  some  fresh  toast,  dear.  The  marmalade's  my  own, 
watermelon  rinds,  you  know."  And  Godfrey,  "  Listen  to 
this,  Agnes.  A  woman  hanging  clothes  out  her  window 
falls  into  a  rain  barrel." 

"  Oh,  will  he  never  go  ?  "  thought  Joan.  "  It  will  soon 
be  too  late  to  get  hold  of  Bret." 

At  last  he  obliged  her,  and  no  sooner  was  she  certain 
of  the  closing  door  than  a  burden  seemed  to  slip  from  her. 
She  turned  her  face  to  Agnes,  who  found  it  rather  dazzling 
with  expectancy. 


THE  PINCH  O'  POVERTY  179 

"  Tell  me  quickly,  Aggie,  have  you  seen  him  ?  " 

"  Who  ? "  countered  Agnes  to  gain  time. 

"  Why,  Bret — Mr.  Ballou,  of  course.  Don't  make  me 
come  out  flatly  and  say  that  I'm  dying  to  hear,  that  I'm  mad 
as  a  March  hare  over  that  same  Bret  Ballou."  Her  eyes 
darted  from  Agnes'  to  her  plate.  "  We're  engaged,"  she 
offered  in  a  lower  voice.  "At  least,  I  suppose  it  amounts  to 
that,  and  now  that  I've  lost  Father  I  seem  to  need  him  more 
than  any  one  in  the  world." 

Agnes  rose  and  went  to  the  serving  table,  where  she 
poured  herself  a  drink  of  water.  It  had  been  a  trying  day. 
Early  that  morning,  seeking  change  for  some  domestic  bill 
while  Godfrey  was  bathing,  she  had  inadvertently  dis- 
covered an  envelope  in  his  pocket,  empty  save  for  a  faint, 
suggestive  fragrance.  Later  on  the  children  had  been  wor- 
risome, and  here,  at  the  fag-end  of  the  day,  was  Joan  come 
up  from  the  country  to  invite  disillusionment.  Agnes  wore 
one  of  the  negligees  that  Claire  had  selected  for  her  two 
months  previous,  and  from  its  dull  blues  and  grays  her 
head  rose  as  sombre  in  modelling  as  that  of  a  saint,  eyes  and 
mouth  with  the  look  of  weary  omniscience. 

"  Yes,  I've  seen  Mr.  Ballou.  But,  please,  dear,  don't  let 
us  talk  to-night.  I've  had  quite  too  much  for  one  day.  You 
must  be  worn  out,  yourself.     Are  you  taking  a  tonic  ?  " 

"  I  need  to  see  Bret,"  was  the  answer  in  a  still,  small 
voice.    But  after  a  time,  with  greater  spirit: 

"  Yes,  I  am  tired,  Aggie,  but  please  tell  me  all  about 
him.  I've  counted  the  weeks  and  days  and  hours. 
Actually,  when  the  train  pulled  into  the  station  my  heart 
was  beating  to  suffocation." 

Agnes,  who  was  used  to  rather  extravagant  speech  from 
both  her  sisters,  yet  wheeled  sharply. 

"  Oh,  come,  Joan,  you  never  saw  him  over  a  dozen  times, 
and  before  that  you  had  never  seen  any  man  excepting 


i8o  BLIND  WISDOM, 

Jerry.  Do  you  mean  that  you  are  fancying  yourself  in  love 
with  him?" 

"  You  speak,"  cried  her  little  sister  proudly,  "  as  though 
the  only  fourteen  karat  love  in  the  world  was  yours  for 
Godfrey." 

"  Nonsense,  I  do  no  such  thing.  But  the  way  you  and 
Claire  jump  at  life  sometimes  frightens  me." 

Suddenly  it  occurred  to  Joan  that  Agnes*  attitude  to- 
ward Bret  had  changed.  A  rebellious  spirit  surged  within 
her.  Why  was  it  that  superior  people  were  always  able  to 
support  their  superiority  by  disagreeable  knowledge  ?  Why 
did  God  encourage  the  kill-joys  and  keep  them  everlastingly 
smug? 

She  lifted  her  face  witK  such  a  look  of  disquietude  that 
Agnes'  heart  smote  her. 

"  Is  anything  the  matter  ?  Tell  me !  "  begged  Joan.  It 
was  as  though  she  said,  "  If  you  are  going  to  strike  me, 
have  the  blow  over  as  soon  as  you  can."  And  yet,  she 
reasoned  inwardly,  what  possible  weapon  could  Agnes  hold 
against  him? 

A  minute  longer  the  older  woman  held  out,  weighing  her 
fatigue  and  disinclination  against  that  tragedy-thirsting  face. 
She  decided  at  last  that  Joan  had  a  right  to  her  knowl- 
edge, however  wearing  it  might  be  to  give  it  to  her.  It  was 
not  as  though  she  had  known  him  long,  anyway.  Agnes 
came  back  to  the  table  and  sat  down  beside  her,  her  white 
arms  heavy  on  the  table-cloth. 

"  Joan,  I've  been  an  awful  goose  to  let  you  see  that  boy 
whenever  and  wherever  you  liked." 

Instantly  Joan  paled. 

"  You're  going  to  say  something  horrid,  Aggie.  I  feel 
it.     If  you  do,  you'll  break  my  heart." 

"  Not  exactly  horrid,  but — unfortunate." 

"Against  Bret's  character?  " 


THE  PINCH  O'  POVERTY  i8l 

"  Hmm,  I'd  hardly  say  that,  or  rather,  it  depends  on  the 
point  of  view." 

Such  hedging  reminded  Joan  of  Bishop  Blunt. 

"  Oh,  do  speak  out,  in  Heaven's  name !  " 

"  Joan,"  apologized  Agnes  in  contrition,  for  her  own  suf- 
fering was  teaching  her  the  quality  of  mercy,  "  I'm  at 
fault,  myself.  I  supposed  that  Godfrey  knew  all  about 
him ;  he  did  in  a  sense.  He  had  known  him  when  the  two 
were  boys  out  in  Berton.  Bret  was  a  diverting,  but  rather 
spoiled  child,  Godfrey  thinks,  which  isn't  to  be  wondered  at, 
seeing  he  was  an  only  son  and  his  father  so  successful." 

"  Go  on." 

"After  Godfrey  left  Berton  for  college  and  business,  he 
lost  touch  with  him,  though  Mr.  Blunt  could  have  told  him 
Bret's  story,  had  he  known  we  were  vitally  concerned.  He 
did  tell  him  a  few  days  ago.  Every  one  in  Berton  knows 
of  it." 

Joan  looked  rather  sick,  but  she  was  listening  bravely. 

"  He  married  when  he  was  a  mere  lad  a  girl  of  his  own 
class.  I  dare  say  they  were  happy  enough,  as  she  adored 
Bret  and  there  was  a  little  one.  The  nurse  was  wheeling 
it  out  one  day  when  a  runaway  came  tearing  about  a  blind 
corner  and  toppled  the  baby,  carriage  and  all,  over  on  the 
asphalt.  The  poor  wee  thing  died  instantly  with  concussion 
of  the  brain." 

"  Oh,"  wailed  Joan,  forgetting  herself  entirely,  "  poor, 
poor  Bret !     Poor  little  mother ! " 

"  Yes,"  sighed  Agnes  in  evident  relief  that  part  of  it,  at 
least,  was  over,  "  you  will  say  *  poor  little  mother '  when 
you  hear  the  disastrous  effect  the  accident  had  upon  her. 
She  gradually  lost  her  mind." 

"Not  really?" 

"Absolutely.  There  may  have  been  an  unsound  streak  in 
her  family.     At  any  rate,  she  went  on  in  an  abnormal  way 


182  BLIND  WISDOM 

about  the  child,  even  turning  against  Bret  as  somehow  to 
blame  for  the  accident.     But  no  one  had  believed  that  she 

was  really  deranged  till   one  night "     Joan   saw   the 

goose-flesh  creep  up  Agnes'  bare  arm.  "  One  night  when 
her  husband  went  to  bed  he  found  a  knife  under  the  pillow. 
She  was  waiting — waiting,  you  know,  to  kill  him." 

There  was  a  long  silence  between  them.  Then  Joan 
asked  through  tight  lips: 

"  What  became  of  her,  Aggie  ?  " 

"  That,"  said  Agnes,  in  her  normal  voice,  "  is  the  awful 
part.  Nothing  happened  to  her.  She  is  still  alive  and  mad 
as  a  hatter." 

"  Then  why  didn't  he  tell  me  ?  Oh,  how  could  he  have 
let  it  go  on  as  though  he  were  free?  " 

"  It's  just  possible,"  Agnes  was  grudgingly  just,  "  that  he 
thought  you  knew.  It's  the  kind  of  thing,  dear,  that's 
known  and  gradually  forgotten.  I  dare  say  he  even  forgets 
it  himself  as  far  as  having  any  bearing  on  his  conduct  or 
life.  Out  in  Berton  people  have  encouraged  his  forgetting 
because  of  their  pity  for  him.  According  to  Father  Blunt, 
he's  made  no  end  of  a  pet.    Whatever  he  does  is  condoned !  " 

"  Oh,  but  that's  carrying  it  too  far,"  protested  Joan,  who 
was  concerned  at  once  for  Bret's  character. 

Agnes  smiled. 

"  You  don't  understand  wholly.  It  isn't  just  that  they're 
sorry  for  him.  It's  that  they  admirie  him  for  never  trying 
to  free  himself." 

"And  does  he  live ?**  Joan's  hand  passed  trem- 
blingly over  her  face  as  though  she  felt  a  ^ostly  cobweb. 

"Assuredly  not — with  that  mad  creature.  But  he  main- 
tains a  house  for  her,  nurses,  doctors,  recreation." 

The  child's  wide  eyes  rested  dully  on  her  sister's.  She 
felt  no  urge  toward  hysterics  or  demonstration,  though  the 
shock  was  a  powerful  one.    It  seemed  to  Agnes  that  some- 


THE  PINCH  O'  POVERTY  183 

thing  very  bright  and  delicate  died  before  her.  It  was  a 
new  Joan  who  rose. 

"  I  must  see  him." 

*'0h,  but  Joan " 

"  There  is  no  '  but ' "    The  voice  was  coldly  fatalistic. 

"  I  mean,  dear,  certainly  not  to-night." 

"Yes,  to-night." 

Agnes'  face  crumpled  forlornly.  Of  late  she  was  so 
often  confronted  by  her  own  futility ! 

"Your  reputation,  Joan!  How  can  you  seek  him  at 
this  hour  ?  " 

Joan  turned  at  the  door,  looking  every  inch  a  woman, 
signed  and  sealed  by  her  first  real  experience. 

"  I  don't  recognize  that  word  '  reputation,'  Agnes.  Char- 
acter is  indestructible  and  it  certainly  isn't  affected  by  the 
position  of  the  sun." 

Agnes  summoned  her  patience. 

"  Yes,  dear,"  she  preached  platitudinously,  "  but  on  tfie 
other  hand  we  must  not  only  do  right — we  must  seem  to  do 
right!  Is  there  need  for  such  extreme  action?  You  have 
only  to  telephone  him  and  ask  him  to  come  here." 

Joan  wavered. 

"  I  won't  have  you,"  she  wailed,  "  browbeating  him  like 
a  schoolma'am  with  a  stick." 

"  You  need  not  worry,"  Agnes  assured  her  proudly.  "  I 
have  no  intention  of  interfering.  The  time  to  have  done  so 
was  in  the  start." 

"  Very  well  I  "  Joan,  moving  toward  the  telephone,  sud- 
denly softened  toward  her  sister,  who  was  in  no  way  to 
blame.  "  Don't  be  nervous,  Agg^e.  I'm  as  rational  as  you 
are,  I'm  calm  as  a  general.  I  don't  feel  in  the  least  melo- 
dramatic. Only  " — her  face  twisted  in  desolation — "  I  must 
see  Bret." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
A  CRISIS  AND  A  COMPROMISE 

A  SLEEPY  man-servant  answered  the  telephone  at  Bret's 
apartment  and  refused  to  divulge  his  master's  whereabouts 
till  Joan  had  given  her  name.  She  heard  this  dragon  scuf- 
fling off  to  consult  the  former  and  returning  with  greater 
alacrity  to  announce  that  Mr.  Ballou  would  be  there  in  a 
minute.  Perhaps  one  slipper  was  off  the  end  of  Bret's  foot, 
for  Joan  heard  distinctly  a  flippity  flop  across  bare  floors. 
Then  his  voice  musical  with  pleasure. 

*'  Twinkletoes,  you !  When  did  you  return  to  town  and 
why  was  I  not  informed  ?  " 

She  pictured  him  in  a  smoking- jacket  with  a  long  ciga- 
rette holder  in  his  hand,  rousing  himself  from  an  evening  of 
ennui,  and  she  was  not  far  wrong. 

**  This  evening,  Bret.    I'm  very  tired '* 

"  Naturally,  after  what  you've  been  through.  I  received 
the  letters  and  you're  not  to  worry  about  anything.  I  know 
I  can  help  your  family  to  straighten  matters  out.  You'll 
let  me  smooth  the  way,  won't  you,  dear  ?  " 

There  was  a  long  pause,  then  her  voice  said  rather 
abruptly : 

**  I  want  to  see  you  immediately." 

"  To  be  sure.    Shall  we  lunch  together  to-morrow? " 

"  Please  come  to-night/* 

"  But  Twinkletoes,  good  gracious,  it's  after  ten  and  too 
late  to  call  at  your  sister's  house.'' 


A  CRISIS  AND  A  COMPROMISE  185 

"I  Have  Agnes'  permission  for  you  to  come/'  she  fur- 
jtHer  surprised  him  by  announcing.  "  I  shall  be  here  by  the 
fire.  Come  as  soon  as  you  can,"  and  without  waiting  for  a 
reply  hung  up  the  receiver. 

While  she  waited  she  rehearsed  what  she  should  say  to 
him ;  she  would  not  be  able  to  refrain  from  bitterness  at  his 
deception.  She  would  never  be  able  to  forgive  him  that. 
Formed  sentences  came  to  her  mind,  unconsciously  plagia- 
rized from  fiction.  But  when  he  at  last  entered  the  house 
she  felt  almost  too  sad  for  utterance,  futile  and  faint 
Agnes  had  made  good  her  promise  and  retreated  up-stairs 
to  her  sitting-room,  sewing  spasmodically,  and  at  other 
times  walking  up  and  down  the  room  agitatedly.  Joan  was 
seated  by  the  drawing-room  fire.  Even  when  she  heard  the 
bell  ring  and  Hannah  go  to  answer  it  she  did  not  stir, 
thinking : 

"  I  must  not  listen  for  his  step  ever  again.  I  must  not 
let  myself  feel  possessive." 

Bret  brought  the  freshness  of  the  night  with  him  but  his 
anticipation  was  allayed  by  the  fret  of  suspicion.  As  he 
entered  the  room  Joan  rose  very  quietly,  shrinking  within 
herself.  She  was  all  in  black  and  her  sombre  effect  intensi- 
fied his  foreboding.  Was  this  new  demeanor  indicative  of 
sorrow  or  other  complication?  He  very  wisely  attempted 
no  demonstration  of  affection,  only  held  out  his  hand  with 
winning  sympathy. 

"  Poor  little  Twinkletoes,  poor  little  dancer.  I  know  how 
lonely  you  must  feel  without  your  father.** 

"  Yes,  Bret,"  she  said  simply,  "  I  do.  I  never  loved  him 
half  enough.  And  the  fact  that  he  died  a  failure  makes  it 
more  forlorn.  I  feel  that  my  playtime  is  over  now.  But 
before  I  could  take  up  anything  new  I  wanted  to  see  you. 
Something  drove  me  back  to  you.  I  was  needing  you  to 
care  for  me  a  little "    Her  voice  broke  as  though  it  had 


1 86  BLIND  WISDOM 

reached  too  far.  Her  loving  eyes  reproached  him  poign- 
antly.    "And  I  heard  from  Agnes — I  heard " 

He  cleared  his  throat  hastily,  his  face  beginning  to  twitch. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  muttered,  "  but  whatever  you  heard  let 
us  sit  and  be  comfortable  before  you  begin.  You  must  be 
dreadfully  fatigued  from  your  journey." 

He  drew  her  irresistibly  to  the  broad  davenport,  arranged 
the  soft  cushions  skillfully  at  her  back,  and  took  her  hand 
in  a  helpful,  comforting  way.  The  whole  situation  then 
seemed  to  her  fabulous.  Here  they  were  in  the  same  de- 
lightful intimacy  as  before,  with  the  bond  of  attraction  be- 
tween them,  and  she  had  sent  for  him  to  deride  him.  But 
desperately  she  stared  at  the  underlying  truth. 

"  They  told  me  that  you  are  married !  "  The  words,  bom 
in  travail,  were  uttered  jerkily.  They  sounded  harsh  and 
crude,  almost  profane. 

She  waited,  hearing  the  clock  tick  against  the  wall,  feeling 
the  pulse  of  his  wrist  beating  against  her  hand,  her  whole 
being  a  sick  protest  against  the  lie  he  had  lived.  The  mo- 
ment was  elemental.  On  his  forehead,  the  most  delicately 
fashioned  portion  of  his  face,  she  saw  the  tiny  beads  of 
perspiration  break  out  like  dew.  He  reached  mechanically 
toward  a  tabourette  and  hungrily  lit  a  cigarette,  his  hand 
shaking.     His  manner  proclaimed  his  guilt. 

"  Say  *  No,'  say  '  No,'  "  she  prompted  with  the  instinct  of 
pity,  as  though  the  mere  words  were  empowered  to  clear 
him.    "  I'll  believe  you  if  you  say  *  No.' " 

But  he  said  nothing.  Then,  perforce  accepting  his  silence 
for  admission,  all  at  once  her  immature  body  broke  across 
his  knees  and  she  buried  her  head  in  his  lap,  sobbing  im- 
controlledly. 

"  I've  loved  you  so,  I've  loved  you  so,  and  you've  been 
such  a  wretch  to  me.  How  could  you,  Bret  ?  How  could 
you?'^ 


A  CRISIS  AND  A  COMPROMISE  187 

He  put  a  rough  hand  through  her  hair. 

"Are  you  going  to  blame  me  for  loving  you?  Did  you 
think  I  was  going  to  let  heaven  slip  by  when  I'd  lived  in  hell 
so  long?"  Unconsciously  he  was  revealing  himself  as 
something  of  a  Hedonist.  "  My  life  was  blighted  when  I 
was  a  mere  youngster,  and  I  had  to  sit  down  under  my 
peculiar  kind  of  burden  with  no  chance  of  relief.  Always 
that  shadow  in  the  background  reaching  for  me.  Even  now 
I  wake  sometimes  in  the  night  as  I  did  then,  feeling  her 
bending  over  me,  listening  to  me  breathe,  before  she'd  run 
laughing  through  the  house  in  a  way  to  make  your  blood 
creep.  I  couldn't  describe  to  you  in  words  what  it's  like 
to  live  with  a  crazy  woman." 

Joan  saw  the  goose  flesh  creep  up  his  hand  and  knew  that 
his  horror  was  real.  He  shook  his  head  in  remembrance. 
"  Remember,  I  bore  it  a  year  before  I  had  her  taken  away" 

Joan  was  only  too  anxious  to  suspend  judgment. 

"  How  could  you,  Bret?  Oh,  that  must  have  been  cruci- 
fixion!" 

"  It  was  worse  than  that.  Believe  me,  no  one  knows. 
But  her  family  begged  me  to  be  patient,  and  they  aren't  the 
kind  of  people  I  could  risk  offending."  He  laughed  grimly. 
"  If  the  boy  had  lived  she  might  not  have  lost  her  mind.  On 
the  other  hand,  he  might  have  inherited  the  streak  of  in- 
sanity himself.  Well,  you  know  my  story  now,  in  so  far  as 
I  can  give  it  to  you.  If  I've  reached  out  for  a  little  happi- 
ness God  knows  it  was  coming  to  me." 

It  was  characteristic  of  Ballou  that  not  once  did  he  see 
his  action  as  an  injustice  to  Joan.  Her  arms  went  round 
him  pityingly,  and  she  nursed  him  with  her  longing  yet 
accusing  tenderness. 

"  Oh,  I  can't  bear  it,  Bret.  Indeed  I  can*t.  It*s  not  only 
/  who  am  cheated  but  you  as  well.  I  could  never  sit  down 
under  disaster  and  I  can't  now,"    She  gathered  energy. 


1 88  BLIND  WISDOM 

"  It's  all  a  mistaken  idea  of  honor,  your  tying  yourself  to 

this  poor  stricken  woman.    Bret "    Her  breath  came 

sharply.     "  Bret-— couldn't  you ?  " 

He  turned  and  gathered  her  closely  to  him,  deliberately 
losing  himself  in  her  delicate  lovableness.  He  kissed  her 
mouth  and  throat  and  eyes  with  a  fierceness  that  half  con- 
sumed her,  confusing  the  issues  in  her  mind  by  this  lavish 
demonstration.  But  when  she  leaned  back  against  his 
shoulder,  breathless  and  tearful,  he  saw  that  the  question 
was  still  in  her  eyes  and  must  be  answered  sooner  or  later. 
For  years,  ever  since  freed  of  his  wife's  actual  burden,  he 
had  been  in  a  measure  enjoying  his  martyrdom.  Like  that 
of  certain  temperamental  women,  his  melancholy  story  had 
earned  him  anything  but  a  melancholy  reward.  It  had  con- 
veniently conditioned  his  life  for  the  minimum  of  sacri- 
fice and  the  maximum  of  reward.  It  had  become  an  im- 
mensely valuable  asset.  He  would  not  know  how  to  live 
without  it.  With  it  his  way  was  facile,  men  indulgent  and 
women  devoted.  They  spoke  of  "  dear  Bret  Ballou,"  or 
"  Ballou,  poor  chap,"  and  whenever  his  conduct  slipped  a 
cog  they  conveniently  resurrected  his  "  tragic  story  "  to  ex- 
plain away  any  discrepancy  in  his  code.  Little  Joan,  de- 
sirable though  she  was,  could  scarcely  have  compensated 
him  for  such  a  loss.  Yet  he  had  no  intention  of  losing  her 
utterly. 

At  last  he  said,  tritely,  jerking  out  each  word  as  though 
it  hurt  him : 

"  It — can — ^never— be — any — different.  Remember,  she 
was  the  mother  of  my  son,  and  the  child's  death  drove  her 
to  this  terrible  state.  No,  I  must  live  and  suffer  and  stand 
by  my  bargain." 

"  I  realize  all  that,"  whispered  Joan  sensitively,  "  and  I 
would  not  have  you  desert  any  one  who  might  suffer  by  the 
desertion.    But,  don't  you  see,  her  malady  eliminates  her  to 


A  CRISIS  AND  A  COMPROMISE  189 

a  certain  extent.  She  is  beyond  the  need  of  our  considera- 
tion and — we  love  one  another." 

She  was  arguing  timidly  against  her  own  annihilation. 

"  Do  you  mean,"  asked  Bret  with  great  gravity,  "  that  I 
should  not  have  made  you  care  for  me  just  because  the 
usual  consummation  isn't  possible?  Oh,  Joan,  that  is  like 
asking  water  to  rim  up  hill.  Such  tMngs  cannot  be  ordered 
by  reason." 

"  No,"  she  said  nervously,  "  no,  and  yet  when  the  truth 
is  known  they  can't  go  on.    I'll  have  to  leave  you,  Bret." 

He  dropped  his  head  in  his  hands. 

"  Leave  me,  then.  Take  the  safe  and  conventional  way. 
Perhaps  it  wasn't  love  at  all  you  felt  for  me."  He  was  be- 
ginning to  act  his  part,  but  in  justice  to  Bret  let  it  be  said 
that  he  was  guilty  of  no  sordid  conspiracy  against  her.  He 
was  a  drifter  of  the  most  inveterate  kind.  He  never  went 
to  meet  Fate,  preferring  to  receive  it  at  home  with  an 
equable  smile  on  his  face.  Whatever  their  relationship  was 
to  be  time  would  determine. 

She  yearned  to  him  as  he  sat  in  that  attitude  of  tragic 
resignation.  Once  or  twice  her  hand  gravitated  toward  him 
but  was  compelled  home  by  some  inward  mentor.  His  im- 
plication had  hurt  her  pride.  She  was  neither  calculating 
nor  conventional.  Fundamentally  her  love  asked  only  to 
be  allowed  to  give. 

"  How — how  could  we  go  on  ?  "  she  temporized  weakly. 

Instantly  his  face  was  brighter.  He  lifted  her  nervous 
hand  to  his  lips  and  pressed  soft  kisses  into  the  pink  palm. 

"  Just  as  we  are  now,  Twinkletoes,  making  the  world 
sweet  to  each  other.  Always  I  should  lavish  beautiful 
things  and  beautiful  times  upon  you;  you  would  remain  my 
little  lady  of  dreams.  Neither  marriage  nor  exclusion 
from  marriage  can  vitally  affect  what  we  feel,  can  it? 
Can  it?" 


190  BUND  WISDOM 

His  method  of  reasoning  was  irresistible. 

"  Would  there  be  anything  wrong  in  such  innocent  love 
as  that?" 

She  shook  her  head  in  negation,  flushing  exquisitely. 

"  No,  no,  Bret,  if  we  were  always  careful  to  keep  it 
innocent ! " 

Her  eyes  brimmed. 

"  Well,  anyway,"  he  let  that  particular  point  slip  by, 
"  you  don't  want  any  one  but  me,  do  you,  sweetheart  ?  " 

A  silent  acquiescence.  His  arm  tightened  masterfully 
about  her. 

"  Then  why  this  talk  of  leaving  me  ?  You  can't  control 
destiny.  By  George,  it's  useless  to  rebel.  Better  take  what 
the  gods  have  given  without  questioning  the  quality  of  the 
gift,  better  accept  with  a  thankful  heart!  Kiss  me,  and 
promise  me  that  you'll  set  your  mind  at  rest,  that  you'll 
never  try  not  to  love  me." 

Obediently  she  turned  and  clung  to  him,  yielding  her  lips 
ungrudgingly.  She  wept  peacefully,  by  dint  of  his  per- 
suasion drugged  into  a  false  contentment. 

For  three  days  Joan  kept  to  her  bed  in  Agnes'  house, 
volunteering  no  information,  save  that  she  was  mortally 
tired,  which  Agnes  could  well  believe.  Three  times  a  day 
a  tray  came  to  her  room,  but  otherwise  they  left  her  alone 
and  she  was  grateful  for  the  consideration. 

Her  scruples,  which  Bret  had  succeeded  in  momentarily 
overcoming,  were  again  present  in  a  highly  magnified  state, 
and  as  she  afterward  told  Jerry,  in  those  three  days  she 
thought  herself  half  crazy. 

The  cold  realization  was  upon  her  of  how  flat  her  dream 
castle  had  fallen.  There  would  be  no  honorable  and  open 
life  with  Bret  now,  and  she  was  surprised  to  find  how  far 
her  innocent  imagination  had  taken  her,  how  exquisite  and 


A  CRISIS  AND  A  COMPROMISE  191 

rosy  were  the  plans  she  had  built  around  him.  She  had 
meant  to  stimulate  him  to  some  real  endeavor,  to  make  that 
personal  magnetism  earn  for  him,  if  not  in  the  acquisition 
of  more  wealth,  at  least  to  the  end  of  highly  justifying  his 
existence  with  his  fellow-men.  But  aside  from  that  they 
would  have  been  essentially  exclusive  in  their  love,  keeping 
only  to  each  other.  Her  scroll  of  domestic  felicity,  as  she 
had  written  it,  was  as  dainty  as  a  fairy  tale  and  about  as 
improbable. 

She  put  the  bright  imaginings  from  her,  and  in  their  stead 
came  a  warning  of  the  dread  reality.  It  would  be  different 
now,  a  precarious  footing  for  them  both.  Already  she  felt 
the  pained  humiliation  of  one  who  would  henceforth  meet 
the  world  waveringly.  "  Stand  up  to  life,"  Jerry  had  said 
in  one  of  their  conversations,  "  and  nothing  can  hurt  you. 
It's  only  when  you  face  it  half-way  that  it  side-swipes  you 
out  of  your  course." 

And  she  knew  that  he  had  spoken  the  truth.  Unlike 
Bret's  facile  philosophy,  nothing  could  hide  from  her  soul 
its  utter  responsibility.  The  square  thing  would  be  to  end 
the  affair  cleanly,  leaving  the  sharp  pain  that  comes  from 
an  amputation,  or,  continuing  it,  to  do  so  openly,  of  which 
Bret  would  certainly  never  hear. 

Lying  with  her  face  in  the  pillow  and  shadows  of  fatigue 
beneath  her  eyes,  she  turned  in  her  thoughts  more  and 
more  often  to  Jerry,  as  to  a  Gibraltar  of  strength.  Strangely 
enough  that  long-ago  Sunday  came  to  her  mind,  when  they 
had  walked  through  the  little  yellow  birch  leaves  out  in 
Crannsford,  and  Jerry  had  spoken  such  words  of  wisdom 
and  comfort. 

"  We  search  and  we  search  for  God,"  he  had  said,  "  and 
all  the  time  He's  in  our  hearts,  hoping  we  will  find  Him 
there,  hoping  we  will  listen.  That's  the  blind  wisdom  of 
each  of  us."    The  blind  wisdom !    Already,  could  she  have 


192  BLIND  WISDOM 

known,  she  saw  clearly  with  her  brain,  though  not  with 
her  heart. 

In  her  gropings  for  light  she  picked  out  book  after  book 
from  the  little  white  reading  stand  beside  her  bed,  opening 
at  random  for  a  sentence  to  point  the  truth.  And  indeed  it 
was  uncanny  how  often  she  stumbled  upon  something  of 
significance,  a  phrase  or  a  poem.  From  Emerson  she  found, 
"  Nothing  can  bring  you  peace  but  the  triumph  of  prin- 
ciples."   And  in  a  volume  of  verse,  the  beautiful : 

**  For  every  man  there  openeth  a  way,  and  ways,  and  a  way. 
And  the  high  soul  climbs  the  high  way  and  the  low  soul 

gropes  the  low. 
While  in  between  on  the  misty  flats  the  rest  drift  to  and  fro, 
But  for  every  man  there  openeth  a  high  way  and  a  low. 
And  every  man  decideth  the  way  his  soul  shall  go    .    .    .** 

It  was  a  curious  twist  to  her  character  that  the  mere 
matter  of  a  way  to  forge  for  herself  did  not  vitally  concern 
her  at  that  time.  Claire  was  to  take  up  a  secretaryship. 
Joan,  too,  would  want  to  contribute  to  the  family  exchequer, 
but  the  real  crisis  to  her  was  the  crisis  of  her  affections. 
Till  she  had  solved  that  monstrous  problem  she  was  inca- 
pable of  coping  with  another. 

The  third  day  she  dressed  at  noon  and  was  making  shift 
to  appear  cheerful  and  at  ease  when  Hannah  called  her  to 
the  telephone.  It  was  in  the  library,  next  the  room  where 
Agnes  sat  reading,  and  as  Joan  bent  to  take  up  the  receiver 
she  trembled  as  with  palsy.  Agnes  thought  the  quick,  hesi- 
tant words  uncharacteristic  of  her,  yet  nothing  was  said  to 
indicate  that  the  speaker  on  the  other  end  was  Ballou.  In 
the  afternoon  Joan  announced  that  she  would  go  out  for  a 
bit  of  air.  "  I'm  taking  tea  with  Marybelle  Gordon,"  she 
substantiated,  then  bitterly  to  herself,  "  The  first  lie !  After 
this  I  shall  be  obliged  to  deceive  continuously." 


A  CRISIS  AND  A  COMPROMISE  193 

Agnes  said  nothing,  but  studied  her  quietly.  Later  she 
saw  Joan,  looking  distinctly  ill  and  unhappy,  let  herself  out, 
and  from  her  vantage  point  at  the  window  remarked  her 
take  a  'bus  at  the  corner.  Then  she  leaned  back  in  her  chair 
and  pressed  her  fingers  to  her  eyes,  seeking  solace  in  prayer, 
"  Oh,  God,  watch  over  this.  Thy  lamb.  Deliver  her  from 
temptation.  Grant  it  to  her  to  find  peace  and  security  with 
the  right  man.  And  to  all  of  us,"  she  was  human  enough  to 
add,  "  send  strength  in  the  hour  of  trial,  and  a  happy  issue 
out  of  all  our  afflictions."  Then,  the  word  "  afflictions " 
touching  some  spring  of  domestic  association  in  her  mind, 
she  went  out  to  order  steak  and  mushrooms  for  Godfrey's 
dinner. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
JOAN  STANDS  UP  TO  LIFE 

Once  atop  the  'bus  Joan  sat  a  prey  to  conflicting  emotions. 
She  was  bound  for  her  rendezvous  with  Bret,  he  had  com- 
manded her  to  him,  and  though  the  proposition  was  a  blame- 
less one,  a  mere  date  for  tea,  its  clandestine  nature  revolted 
her.  Beside  her  a  fat  man  who  believed  in  independence 
and  a  plaid  blanket  overlapped  with  impunity.  She  did  not 
even  know  that  the  air  was  razor-keen  and  the  few  hardy 
passengers  who  remained  "  up-stairs "  were  like  sparrows 
with  heads  tucked  into  their  wings. 

She  had  the  introspective  look  that  is  at  once  remarked 
as  unusual  and  several  people  glanced  at  her,  sitting  so 
straight  and  sad  with  destiny  written  on  a  white  face. 

"  If  I  go  this  once,"  she  was  saying  inwardly,  "  I  shall  be 
giving  in  for  all  time,  I  shall  be  starting  that  which  I  can 
never  finish,  and  my  heartache  will  last  for  an  eternity. 
Beside,  can  we  do  such  a  thing  without  injuring  ourselves? 
Are  we  high-minded  enough  to  set  up  a  barbed  wire  fence 
around  our  friendship  and  never  want  to  vault  over  ?  "  She 
perceived  the  irony  of  such  a  sterile  task  as  they  had  set 
themselves. 

And  once  a  traitorous  thought  set  her  flaming. 

"  He  knows  I  am  intense,  that  I'll  be  the  first  to  yield." 

She  dug  her  gloved  hands  into  the  straw  seat,  ashamed  of 
the  conflict  within  her.  They  were  passing  Fifty-seventh 
Street,  and  her  watch  told  her  that  her  appointment  must  be 


JOAN  STANDS  UP  TO  LIFE  195 

consummated  in  twenty  minutes.  Her  brain  was  now  speak- 
ing sternly  to  her  heart,  but  her  heart  refused  to  listen.  "  Be 
quiet.  I  tell  you  I  love  him,"  the  heart  insisted  sullenly. 
"  I'm  going  to  him  to-day,  I  shall  see  him  laugh,  I  shall  hear 
him  speak,  and  even  that  little  will  solace  me."  "  No,  no," 
rebuked  the  patient  brain.  "  You  will  never  be  satisfied 
with  starvation  rations.  Save  yourself  while  you've  still 
control."  Forty-second  Street!  She  moistened  her  lips 
which  felt  strangely  dry.  The  fat  man  beside  her  ventured 
a  middle-class  "  Pardon  me ! " — accent  on  the  "  me." 
"  Would  you  like  part  of  my  blanket? "  No  doubt  he  had 
remarked  her  pallor  and  his  motive  was  one  of  good  fellow- 
ship. But  she  might  have  been  in  the  next  world,  so  long 
was  she  in  reacting. 

"  No,  thank  you  very  much ;  I'm  getting  off  soon."  There, 
she'd  said  it,  she'd  committed  herself!  There  was  nothing 
to  do  now  but  make  good  her  assertion.  With  the  words 
spoken,  something  of  her  balance  returned.  She  was  even 
able  to  note  that  the  skirts  on  the  avenue  were  coming  in 
looser.  And  here  was  Thirty-fourth  Street,  where  she  ex- 
pected to  meet  Bret  at  the  Waldorf.  She  rang  and  stag- 
gered to  the  steps.  As  she  made  the  difficult  descent,  she 
breathed  hard  as  from  a  long  convalescence.  Several  were 
getting  off,  and  now  it  was  her  turn.  She  started  forward, 
purposefully,  then  stopped.  Her  blind  wisdom  was  drawing 
her  back.     .    .    . 

The  conductor  was  staring  at  her  curiously,  so  she  said, 
"  I've  changed  my  mind.     Are  there  seats  inside?" 

How  smoothly  the  omnibus  seemed  to  glide  once  that  dan- 
ger zone  was  passed !  But  Joan's  heart  was  sore  and  heavy. 
She  had  deliberately  crucified  her  love-longing.  Where  was 
she  going  now  ? 

The  easy  progress  of  the  'bus  became  intolerable,  and, 
ringing,  she  stumbled  out  at  Madison  Square,  joining  the 


196  BLIND  WISDOM 

throng  of  pedestrians  that  moved  so  swiftly  the  blood  tingled 
to  keep  pace  with  them.  Without  premeditation  she  took 
the  direction  down  the  avenue,  losing  herself  among  the 
dark-faced  garment  workers,  now  at  five  o'clock  pouring 
down  from  die  lofts.  In  their  midst  her  scanning  showed 
her  faces  of  all  nationalities,  but,  for  the  most  part,  of 
Eastern  Europe,  the  men  short  rather  than  tall,  and  but- 
toned into  their  shabby  black  coats  with  hats  pulled  low 
over  dreaming  brows.  Out  of  the  gray  mist  of  the  abstract 
drifted  the  concrete  wonder  of  each  human  entity.  .  .  . 
Melancholy,  penetrating  eyes  looked  into  hers  with  naive 
interest,  each  face  stamped  with  an  original  label, — all  sorts 
of  people  with  all  sorts  of  secrets,  missions,  hopes,  fears  and 
perplexities!     How  little  she  knew  of  them  or  they  of  her. 

But  these  were  the  people  her  father  had  loved,  the 
seekers !  And  riuninating  upon  them  she  was  driven  wist- 
fully to  think  of  him,  as  too  lightly  valued  until  irrevocably 
lost.  Her  sorrow  was  still  fresh,  though  the  trouble  about 
Bret  had  for  the  time  taken  precedence  over  it,  and  here,  in 
the  boisterous  winter  dusk,  she  felt  the  desolation  of  the 
sheltered  girl  who  suddenly  finds  her  defender  gone.  Essen- 
tially loving  and  lovable,  she  had  never  craved  independence 
from  home  ties.  .  .  .  She  did  not  want  to  be  inde- 
pendent (how  bleak  the  word !)  now.  And  at  the  psycho- 
logical moment  Heaven  sent  her  Jerry.  She  began  to  think 
of  him  urgently,  and  her  step  quickened. 

Beyond  the  black  seething  mass  of  laborers  Washington 
Arch  rose  in  delicate  lavenders  and  pearl,  while  above  it  the 
smoky  evening  sky  was  cut  by  parallel  lines  of  light.  She 
was  going  to  Jerry,  and  she  thought  of  him  as  the  very  ill 
think  of  their  doctor,  with  an  almost  superstitious  faith  in 
his  powers  of  healing. 

Jerry  had  given  her  his  new  address,  and  though  she  had 
faint  hope  of  finding  him  there,  she  felt  vaguely  that  she 


JOAN  STANDS  UP  TO  LIFE  197 

might  pick  up  a  clue  to  his  workaday  whereabouts.  Con- 
sequently, at  Eighth  Street  she  veered  west,  consulting  the 
numbers  on  the  doors  as  she  did  so.  Just  as  she  was  hesi- 
tating before  one  it  opened  precipitately  and  Jerry  stepped 
out.  At  the  relief  of  their  simple  meeting,  everything 
seemed  to  swim  before  her  eyes.  At  least  one  need  of  her 
heart  was  answered,  since,  though  she  had  been  denied  love, 
friendship's  door  was  ajar. 

"  Oh,  Jerry,"  she  exclaimed  hysterically,  "  if  you  care  a 
bit  for  me,  take  my  arm  and  prop  me  up.  I've  been  abed 
three  days,  and  I'm  navigating  with  difficulty.  I'm  *  stand- 
ing up  to  life,'  Jerry,  before  it  has  the  chance  to  hurt  me 
worse." 

He  evinced  no  surprise  at  her  words,  only  did  as  she  bade 
him  and  they  walked  back  to  the  avenue  without  speaking. 
At  last  he  said,  "  Did  you  want  to  talk  to  me,  Joan  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  more  than  anything  in  the  world. 
I  thought  you  might  let  me  sit  down  in  your  studio  and  pour 
out  my  soul."     She  smiled  wanly. 

He  deprecated  the  studio  with  a  wave  of  his  hand,  and 
Joan  knew  that  he  was  in  one  of  his  responsible  moods. 

"  We  might  go  up  to  the  Hardings'.  They  have  a  place 
near  by,  but  the  family  has  gone  South  for  the  season.  The 
housekeeper's  there.  Should  you  like  that,  or  shall  we  find 
a  tea-shop  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  No,  I  can't  talk  to  you  in  a  tea-shop,  Jerry,  with  conven- 
tion sitting  at  my  elbow.     Let  us  go  to  your  friends'." 

A  pleasant-faced  woman  admitted  them  to  a  pretty  house 
near  the  Square,  and  seemed  all  but  overcome  by  the  excite- 
ment of  stray  callers.  She  called  him  "  Mister  Jerry,"  and 
did  he  not  know  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Harding  were  wintering 
at  Palm  Beach?  "We  knew,"  he  admitted  ruefully,  "but 
we  craved  a  shelter  from  the  cold  and  publicity,  Mrs.  Kane. 


198  BLIND  WISDOM 

Miss  Wister  has  something  important  that  she  wishes  to  dis- 
cuss with  me,  and  she's  feeling  very  tired  and  ill.  Would 
you  mind  if  we  appropriated  your  drawing-room  for  our 
conference?  "  His  smile  which  accompanied  the  words  was 
enough  to  have  melted  an  obelisk,  and  the  good  woman  was 
far  from  being  that. 

"  Make  yourselves  at  home,  and  I'm  sure  you're  very 
welcome,  sir,  and  I'll  be  busy  brewing  you  a  bit  of  tea." 

"  I  beg  of  you,  don't  trouble '*  he  began,  but  she 

equalled  his  smile  with  her  own. 

"  It's  a  pleasure,  Mister  Jerry." 

Once  in  the  big,  livable  room,  Joan  sank  down  in  an  up- 
holstered chair  and  beckoned  Jerry  to  move  nearer.  He  did 
so  and  the  usual  questions  were  asked  and  answered.  Yes, 
she  had  left  her  mother  and  Claire  weary,  but  well.  They 
had  no  fears  for  the  future.  Her  mother  was  opening  an 
exclusive — she  could  not  bring  herself  to  use  the  odious 
word  "  boarding-house  " — but  Jerry  understood  and  nodded. 
Claire  had  always  possessed  a  strong  business  sense,  and  no 
doubt  would  take  a  course  in  secretaryship,  while  she,  Joan 
— she  looked  rather  wildly  about  her,  then  back  to  Jerry's 
face  with  an  expression  which  moved  him  by  its  bewilder- 
ment. 

"  Jerry,"  she  asked  earnestly,  "  did  you  think  I'd  forgotten 
all  your  goodness  to  me  ?  " 

"  Assuredly  not,"  answered  the  magnanimous  Jerry,  who 
had  been  plagued  by  just  some  such  notion.  "  I  knew  that 
you  were  only  occupied  in  living  a  little." 

"  Living  a  little,"  repeated  Joan,  with  a  new  sharp  thread 
of  cynicism  in  her  voice.     "  Living  a  little!    Oh,  Jerry! " 

Assimilating  the  tone,  Jerry  frowned  fiercely,  bristling 
with  his  fears  for  her !  Surely  he  must  be  mistaken ;  it  had 
been  too  short  a  time  for  grave  disaster  to  have  befallen  his 
dream-child;  why,  she  had  scarcely  escaped  his  vigil  a 


JOAN  STANDS  UP. TO  LIFE  199 

month,  and  even  in  New  York,  this  dynamic  place  where 
lives  were  ruined  and  lives  made  with  eqiial  celerity,  things 
did  not  happen  without  warning. 

He  asked  with  an  attempt  at  lightness: 

"  What's  up,  child  ?  You  speak  with  quite  a  world-weary 
air.     Or  do  I  imagine  it  ?  " 

"  You  don't  imagine  it,  Jerry,"  confessed  Joan  with  that 
singular  look  of  truthfulness  that  her  face  sometimes  wore, 
and,  without  in  the  least  realizing  that  she  was  hitting  him 
hard,  she  burst  out,  naively,  "  I've  fallen  in  love."  But 
even  in  perturbation  her  drollery  showed  faintly.  "  Oh, 
Jerry,  it's  been  like  falling  down-stairs  and  landing  on  a 
porcupine ! " 

There  was  an  appalling  silence.  He  had  expected  it,  of 
course,  but  he  was  undone  to  a  degrading  extent.  She  had 
given  him  no  time  to  marshal  his  reserves ;  she  had  downed 
him  ignominiously  wiih  one  dainty  blow  of  her  baby  hand. 
He  had  permitted  himself  to  become  engrossed  in  her  to  the 
exclusion  of  all  others,  had  put  his  eggs  in  one  basket,  and 
now  contemplated  the  ruinous  result.  Feeling  himself  an 
almost  comic  spectacle  of  dismay,  he  was  scarcely  able  to 
listen  intelligently  while  she  told  her  story,  rushing  it  along 
with  the  instinct  of  reaching  for  a  verdict.  Perhaps  she  had 
picked  an  "  undesirable,"  reasoned  Jerry  feebly,  and  she 
wanted  him  to  convert  her  mother,  or  the  fellow  was  finan- 
cially unfortunate  and  needed  a  boost.  He  worked  fever- 
ishly at  theories  before  he  became  aware  that  her  story  was 
assuming  peculiar  proportions  and  taking  an  entirely  differ- 
ent trend.  Ballou,  of  course.  Yes,  he  had  grasped  that! 
He  remembered  him,  a  chap  with  spectacular  manners.  No 
wonder  she  had  fallen!  Oh,  Godfrey  had  known  him  be- 
fore. That  was,  in  a  way,  a  recommendation,  Godfrey,  for 
all  his  faults,  being  sedulous  to  guard  his  own.  But  God- 
frey did  not  know.    .    s    g    What  on  earth  was  she  saying  ? 


200  BLIND  WISDOM 

At  last  he  had  it  for  what  it  was  worth.  Ballou  was  mar- 
ried and  his  wife  a  hopeless  lunatic. 

Poor  little  Joan,  what  a  discovery !  But,  after  all,  it  was 
a  case  easily  dealt  with.  No  man  need  be  expected  to  re- 
main tied  to  a  mad  woman!  Divorces  were  not  pleasant 
things  to  contemplate  for  the  most  part,  but  there  was  no 
reason  in  this  case  why  either  of  them  should  feel  shame  or 
scruple.  He  was  misinterpreting  her  confession.  She  was 
dismayed  into  silence.  Then  she  commenced  laboriously  to 
undeceive  him.  She  wanted  to  make  it  plain  that  it  was 
Bret's  sense  of  honor  which  stood  between  them  and  the 
coveted  union,  but  that  was,  of  course,  a  difficult  and  subtle 
task  when  it  must  also  be  understood  that  his  sense  of  honor 
did  not  preclude  his  intention  that  they  should  remain  sweet- 
hearts. Jerry's  face  was  growing  blacker  and  blacker  as  her 
meaning  was  borne  in  upon  him  much  more  lucidly  than 
poor  Joan  could  have  had  any  idea  of.  For  he  read  between 
the  lines  with  terrible  facility.  Nevertheless,  he  was  too 
wise  to  show  her  the  indignation  of  his  soul.  And  still  the 
poor  child  was  floundering  about  in  a  fog  of  indetermination 
and  begging  him  to  lead  her. 

"  What  do  you,  yourself,  think  is  right  ?  "  he  asked,  con- 
scious that  he  was  merely  postponing  the  ultimate. 

"  Oh,  Jerry,  I  ran  away  from  him  to-day,  not  because  I 
didn't  wish  to  see  him,  but  because  I  did  long  to  so  terribly. 
I  felt  that  it  would  be  flying  in  the  face  of  Providence."  Her 
voice  was  elemental  now,  and  Jerry  knew  that  it  was  costing 
her  greatly  to  unstrip  her  pride  before  him.  *'  I've  got  to 
save  myself,"  she  panted  with  a  desperate  energy,  "  you've 
got  to  help  me " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  hastened  to  assure  her  of  support,  **  you 
must  save  yourself,  and  I  verily  believe  you've  started  just 
in  time.    Joan,  you  must  put  yourself  out  of  his  reach."' 

She  nodded  quickly. 


JOAN  STANDS  UP  TO  LIFE  201 

"  Yes,  I  feel  that,  too,  but  I  know  myself  and  I  know  that 
nothing  will  do  it  short  of  a  drastic  measure." 

"  Your  drastic  measure  must  be  your  own  determination 
to  permit  no  compromise." 

Her  fingers  were  twisting  and  untwisting  themselves  in 
the  fold  of  her  skirt. 

"  So  long  as  I  remain  untied  I  can't  avoid  compromise, 
Jerry.  Oh,  you  must  hate  me  for  such  a  confession  of 
weakness." 

A  moment  she  sat  in  painful  apathy,  her  wide  eyes  helpless 
in  his.    Then  all  at  once  she  asked  frantically : 

"  Jerry — won't  you — couldn't  you  put  me  beyond  his 
reach?" 

In  the  warm,  untenanted  house  the  ticking  clocks  came 
into  their  own  like  a  chorus  of  insects. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  asked  Jerry  in  a  whisper,  bending 
foru'ard;  and  he  touched  her  gently  on  her  interlocked 
hands.  His  touch  was  like  a  healing  balm  to  the  unstrung 
girl  and  gave  her  courage  to  go  on.  She  perceived  what  an 
influence  he  was  in  her  life,  how  even  now  she  could  hold 
nothing  from  him,  how  good  and  how  strong  he  had  always 
been.  She  slid  from  her  chair  and  came  timidly  to  him  and 
knelt  on  the  rug  at  his  knees. 

"  Oh,  don't  you  see  ?  I  ran  away  from  him,  Jerry,  but  it 
was  really  my  own  weakness  I  was  trying  to  escape,  that 
kind  of  selfish  wanting  that  isn't  the  best  of  me.  I  want 
to  give  myself  to  your  keeping  always.  Will  you  take 
me?" 

Possibly  the  words  moved  Jerry  no  more  profoundly  than 
they  did  the  girl  herself.  The  inspiration  had  come  to  her, 
new- coined  from  that  blind  wisdom  which  was  God.  He 
put  his  arms  slowly  about  her  shoulders  with  a  gesture  in- 
finitely protective  and  renunciating,  but  she  saw  his  eyes 
darken  and  shine.     He  was  holding  tenaciously  to  his  prin- 


202  BLIND  WISDOM 

ciple.  Nevertheless,  his  voice  twisted  perversely  out  of  his 
control. 

"  You're  just  saying  this  because  you're  unhappy  and  a 
bit  frightened,  dearest  child.  Really  you  know  it  isn't  brave 
to  run  away  from  Life.  As  easy  as  it  would  be  for  me  to 
give  you  my  shoulder  to  hide  behind,  you  wouldn't  really 
want  it  after  a  little,  because  you're  not  that  kind.  And  it 
would  be  a  hideously  unjust  thing  I  should  be  doing  to  you." 

She  pressed  closer. 

"  Why  would  it,  Jerry,  tmless  there  were  some  one  dearer 
to  you?  I  couldn't  by  the  wildest  chance  commit  myself  to 
him  then.  Surely  you  know  that,  and  I'd  be  so  grateful  I'd 
die  to  make  you  happy." 

He  shook  his  head  slowly.  At  his  denial  the  color  suf- 
fused her  face  with  self-consciousness,  and  she  drew  back, 
abashed. 

"  I'm  sorry.    It  was  shameful  for  me  to  have  asked." 

Instantly  his  hand  tightened  on  her  shoulder. 

"  I  don't  think  you  quite  realize  what  you're  suggesting, 
Joan,  You're  in  love  with  another  man,  and  yet  you  talk 
about  *  putting  yourself  in  my  keeping  *  as  though  such  a 

thing  were Why,  I  couldn't  take  you.    It  would  be 

the  most  flagfrant  kind  of  advantage.  You  wouldn't  be 
happy  with  a  luke-warm  affection  for  me.  You'd  be  miss- 
ing the  big,  glorious  destiny  of  your  womanhood." 

"  No,  no,"  she  pleaded,  like  a  child  sorrowing  for  a  stick 
of  candy.  "  I  would  be  happy  with  you,  Jerry.  I  always 
have  been.  And  you've  always  seemed  to  be  happy  with 
me.  We'd  build  up  some  kind  of  a  good  life  together, 
trusting  one  another  as  we  do ;  and  it  would  be  all  honorable 
and  true.  Of  course,"  her  eyes  left  his  face  miserably,  "  I 
can't  pretend  It  would  be  like — that  other  kind  of  love,  but, 
oh,  Jerry,  the  other  kind  is  so  painful." 

Jerry,  thinking  desperately,  was  patting  her  shoulder  and 


JOAN  STANDS  UP  TO  LIFE  203 

trying  not  to  note  that  faint,  provocative  fragrance  that  was 
all  Joan,  young  and  healthy  and  good,  A  year  ago  he  might 
with  a  free  conscience  have  contemplated  marriage,  for  his 
income  was  assured.  Now !  Oh,  now  he  was  a  free  lance 
and  doomed  to  erratic  fortune.  Beside,  was  it  possible  that 
she  had  the  slightest  conception  of  what  marriage  meant, 
the  day  by  day  forcing-house !  And  suppose  in  this  strange 
union  which  she  contemplated  she  should  sicken  or  rebel,  or 
suppose  he  should  come  to  care  too  greatly  and  could  not 
meet  her  friendly  effort  on  the  same  plane !  Always  he  had 
loved  her  mind  and  rejoiced  in  her  personal  charm,  they  had 
always  been  affectionate  in  a  big  brother  and  little  sister  way, 
and  now  there  was  this  fragrance  of  her  inseparable  body 
and  spirit! 

"  No,  no,  I  can't,"  he  put  temptation  from  him  and 
closed  his  eyes  as  though  he  found  it  easier  so  to  be  strong. 
"  Don't  you  see  ?  It  isn't  a  fairy  tale, — ^marriage,  it  isn't 
exactly  a  friendship;  it's  more  than  either  or  both.  It's 
wider  and  deeper.  It  has  a  channel  like  a  river.  Heavens, 
dear,  you've  never  even  been  to  the  edge  and  looked  in !  " 

"  I'm  not  afraid,"  she  declared  bravely. 

"  Then,  too,  I'm  poor  as  Job's  turkey,  or  I  shall  be  poor 
when  I've  eaten  up  my  savings." 

"  You  seem  to  forget  that  I'm  poor,  too,"  she  gave  a 
rueful  smile,  but  a  moment  later  a  shadow  crept  over  her 
face.  "  Oh,  Jerry,  you  don't  think  I'm  just  trying  to  get  in 
out  of  the  cold !    I'd  want  to  help  you ;  I  should  help  you." 

The  words  gave  him  a  new  perspective.  Ah,  he  had  for- 
gotten this  gently  nurtured  child  was  about  to  face  the 
struggle  for  existence,  and  added  to  that  had  come  this  new 
battle  to  keep  the  bloom  on  life  in  a  world  where  men  were 
the  arch-conspirators.  His  resolution  was  slipping  at  a 
dizzy  rate,  and  in  his  innermost  heart  he  knew  that  he  was 
glad  it  was  slipping  and  justifying  its  surrender.     "  But, 


204  BLIND  WISDOM 

careful,  my  dear  fellow,"  whispered  that  interminable  con- 
science, "  careful  that  you  don't  pretend  it's  altruism.  Isn't 
it  yourself  that  you're  doing  this  for?  "  But  Jerry,  like  all 
idealists,  was  not  ready  to  concede  that  much.  "  A  little  for 
both  of  us,"  was  as  much  as  he  would  plead  guilty  to. 

"  Then,  Joan,"  he  heard  his  own  voice  speaking,  half  in 
humility,  half  in  exultation,  "  we'll  try  it,  and  we'll  give  each 
other  the  very  squarest  deal  we  can." 

Before  he  was  aware  of  her  intent,  she  had  reached  up 
and  imprinted  a  quaint  kiss  on  his  cheek. 

"  That's  for  saving  me,"  she  whispered. 


CHAPTER  XX 
GODFREY  ASSISTS  FATE 

Once  Jerry  had  accustomed  himself  to  the  coming  event 
he  became  hilarious  as  a  madman.  It  was  to  be  consum- 
mated at  once,  in  accordance  with  Joan's  wish,  and,  realizing 
as  he  did  what  drove  her  to  him,  he  was  the  more  eager  to 
be  made  her  protector.  Circumstance  had  aided  her  in 
avoiding  Bret,  since  he  had  been  called  out  of  town  the  day 
following  the  broken  appointment.  She  stayed  on  at  Agnes' 
in  dazed  quietude.  Anything  was  better  than  uncertainty, 
and  she  lived  in  a  kind  of  religious  belief  that  her  wound 
was  soon  to  be  healed.  ...  In  the  frank  alliance  with 
Jerry  she  would  grow  strong  and  sweet ;  she  would  help  him 
carve  his  career,  and  anything  in  the  nature  of  a  struggle 
stimulated  her.  The  very  fact  that  he  needed  her,  and  her 
woman's  intuition  told  her  that  he  did,  would  be  sufficient  to 
enrich  her  life. 

To  her  mother  Joan  was  more  than  ever  a  Chinese  puzzle. 

"  Fancy ! "  cried  Mrs.  Wister  with  the  consternation  of  a 
hen  that  has  hatched  ducklings,  "  marrying  Jerry  Callendar 
with  only  a  few  days'  engagement,  after  she  has  known  him 
for  years.  Agnes  tells  me  that  Jerry  and  his  father  have 
had  an  open  break  and  Jerry  is  trying  to  become  a  play- 
wright. Humph !  But  Joan  always  was  incalculable, — she 
was  that  way  about  church  and  school  and  everything  else 
in  her  life.  And  now  she  won't  even  have  a  decent  wedding, 
nor  interest  herself  in  making  a  few  clothes.  She  says, 
*  New   clothes    for   Jerry  ?     How   ridiculous !     As    if  he 


2o6  BLIND  WISDOM 

wouldn't  like  me  as  well  in  the  old !  *  And  she  adds  that  she 
could  never  reconcile  herself  to  the  vulgarity  of  weddings." 
Mrs.  Wister  suffered  a  long  sigh. 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Claire,  who  was  relieved  to  have  attention 
diverted  from  herself,  "  two  weeks  ago  she  was  going  to 
marry  a  Mr.  Ballou,  with  a  million,  and  this  week  it's  Jerry 
of  genteel  poverty.  Apparently  her  time  to  marry  has  come. 
I  wonder  if  there's  anything  under  all  this." 

While  Agnes,  who  was  in  possession  of  Joan's  actuating 
motive,  was  nevertheless  inclined  to  believe  that  she  had 
adopted  heroic  and  dangerous  measures, — as  if  Ballou,  like 
another  Svengali,  wielded  sinister  power. 

"  It's  going  into  marriage  in  such  a  superficial  way,"  she 
argued,  "  a  mere  makeshift  to  tide  over  a  bad  time.  Not- 
withstanding the  fact  that  Jerry's  no  end  of  a  dear,  she'll 
wake  up  some  fine  morning  to  discover  marriage  a  perma- 
nency. What  then,  I  wonder?  Joan's  always  been  used 
to  things,  and  Jerry  may  slave  at  his  calling  for  years  before 
he  produces  a  successful  play.  Well,  it's  all  very  strange 
and  modem.     Don't  you  think  so,  Godfrey  ?  " 

Godfrey,  enjoying  his  after-dinner  cigar,  regarded  it 
quizzically. 

"What's  strange?" 

"  Joan  marrying  Jerry,"  and  Agnes  quoted,  "  '  The  people 
people  marry  is  the  strangest  thing  of  all.' " 

"  You're  wrong,"  spoke  Godfrey  with  conviction.  "  That 
marriage  is  all  right,  Aggie.  Wait  and  see  what  I  tell  you. 
It's  the  only  promising  thing  that  has  happened  around  here 
for  a  long  time." 

"  But  Joan  is  not  In  the  least  in  love  with  Jerry ;  she's 
still  in  love  with  Bret, — trouble  take  the  man!  And  I've 
never  thought  that  Jerry  felt  that  way  about  Joan." 

"Haven't  you?"  Godfrey  gave  her  a  look  of  great 
amusement. 


GODFREY  ASSISTS  FATE  207 

At  his  studio  apartment  in  Eighth  Street,  Jerry  spent  the 
week  in  the  throes  of  preparation.  His  dwelling  was  a  con- 
verted artist's  abode,  one  of  those  many-windowed  affairs 
with  a  balcony  around  three  sides  of  the  studio  and  a  couple 
of  cell-like  bedrooms  leading  off.  Because  of  the  novelty 
of  the  arrangement  it  would  have  been  attractive  on  any 
account,  and  Jerry's  dark,  battered  furniture  accorded  well 
with  the  spirit  of  the  place. 

"  Don't  change  anything,"  Joan  had  begged,  when  he  so- 
licited her  taste  as  to  redecoration.  "  I  don't  mean  to  seem 
unappreciative,  Jerry,  but  I  simply  can't  get  my  mind  on 
such  matters  now." 

Jerry,  whose  ardor  was  dampened,  who  understood  all  too 
keenly  the  readjustment  through  which  she  was  passing, 
nevertheless  decided  to  do  something  on  his  own  responsi- 
bility. It  was  essentially  a  bachelor  dwelling,  and  he  could 
not  imagine  Joan,  with  her  highly  luxurious  life  behind  her, 
taking  up  occupancy.  Accordingly,  with  much  masculine 
squeamishness,  he  called  in  a  company  of  daubers  and  for 
five  hectic  days  read  the  riot  act  over  them.  With  discre- 
tion he  chose  a  light  gray  for  the  walls  of  the  living-room, 
and  for  the  small  kitchen,  with  great  difficulty,  being  man- 
nishly  ignorant  of  such,  he  bought  shining  tin  and  porcelain, 
any  object,  in  fact,  that  looked  to  him  either  ornamental  or 
useful. 

When  it  came  to  Joan's  future  bower  he  felt  himself  in- 
deed incompetent.  The  result  was  that  a  woman  decorator, 
at  considerable  expense,  undertook  to  accomplish  the  thing 
for  him,  subject  to  criticism,  and  was  coyly  amused  at  his 
helplessness.     But  he  laughs  best  who  laughs  last. 

"  No,  no,"  he  soon  rebelled  at  her  bizarre  and  poisonous 
effects.  "  She  would  not  like  this  at  all.  You  don't  under- 
stand. She  is  no  Greenwich  Village  belle,  nor  a  woman  of 
the  world.     She's  a  girl,  I  tell  you,  and  her  thoughts  are  all 


aoS  BUND  WISDOM 

poetical;  die  would  adoic  to  'wabea  anwig  flowcfs  and 
bords.  Please  find  me  somedung;  of  the  sort!**  HeplantBd 
Mmtwrilf  vidi  sadie  obstinacx  on  die  dirrsiinM  of  Joan's 

lOQBn. 

*"  Kirds  and  flowcis  aic  dislinclly  banalj  done  to  deadB/* 
doe  joimi^  ladf  dnwjior  came  bock  widi  some  asperittjr. 
fimt:  togcdicr  dicjr  bent  over  liic  haSky  yampl^  books^  bovcr- 
in^  from  pattern  to  pattern  fike  bu»n  flics  in  a  flower  gar- 
dcoL  Fet^iiatioa  bedewed  Jenys  fmcbcad  at  die  ta^  be 
bad  ^int  bnnscu. 

"Tbere!"  He, at  last  pounced  nyon  one  widi  bis  lean 
m'l'iflci's  fncfinger.  It  was  fibc-color,  widi  a  sj^inkfii^  of 
Hofs?swmffi  aipoqg  wiridi  biids  were  soaring  on  wings  of  1^5 
lazadfi.  The  idea  of  die  bine  biids  pleased  Inm  as  sjrndioGcaL 
'  She  win  be  bappf  with  tfai^'' he  decided  and  left  die  boose 
jplualliii^ 

The  da^s  sped  bf  wnbSi  gntfifymg  swifinesgE^  and  he  ooold 
slin  pmdi  liiiiiwlf  and  sajr,  "St  is  tmt — all  true — I  haven't 
dreamed  iL*  Bat  an  cspBsde  trooUe  mulled  widi  bis 
joy.  It  was  damnable  dnt  ai^  man  dwald  have  hmt  her, 
and  diere  was  ever  a  soiistiatum  of  fear  in  bim  diat  all  was 
not  oven  SliD,  he  told  liwiMirlf  hopefidlj;  gtngptg  die  depdi 
of  her  wnond  br  die  kngdi  of  time  siie  had  known  Balioa, 
it  cnddnot — cmdd  not  have  cat  so  deep  as  a  long^  infatua- 
tion nn^fat  have  done. 

One  daj,  lumjiing  hooK  -wM  some  domestic  porchase 
beneadi  Us  ann,  a  famffiar  cmbmr  smote  his  a^lit,  a  finn 
figmc  in  Uack  widi  a  strangf-minded  hat  rif£ng  her  head  as  a 
jodicif  iides  a  hofse.  Ids.  Ffinl^  lus  ftrtficrs  housekeeper ! 
Jenj  luwiriiitl  to  overtadoe  her  and  almost  joviaOf  joeged 
herann.  Now  that  he  was  oidside  her  song  deqmdsm  die 
Uadr  alpaca  and  die  sepidchnl  voice  had  no  tenofs  for  him. 

*  How  do  jon  do^  Misl  Flint?    I  hope  jon  are  cajapog 


GODFRE7  ASSISTS  FATE  JQ9 

She  iccogwimcd  hhn  at  moc^  oat  it  vas  a  fiiiiuiis  affmla- 
tioo  with  her  never  to  ^pear  doedL  After  a  great  ado  of 
smprisi^  sht  relied: 

"  Tm  wen,  thank  joa  'caitilf,  Mr.  Jenj,"  for  she  coold 
not  live  down  her  Cnrkncy  accent,  "bat  I  shoold  scarceily 
'ave  known  jcrsdL    YoifvediapgBdabil^  I  will  safl* 

"Have  I  really,  now?"  Jenj  was  ^muNrd.  "Woidd 
joa  see  fit  to  tdl  me  in  jost  what  way?  I  nuss  joor  cook- 
iDg,  of  coarse." 

She  scmdnized  him  sharply. 

"  I  dessay.  Yon  got  conaf  able  thinner,  an'  joor  fafot 
shows  diops.  Bat  jpoa  ain't  got  that  'ang-dog  hxik  fifce  yon 
aster." 

He  laqglied  hd^plessfy. 

"  That  was  exactly  what  I  went  away  to  lose." 

"  Inuss  yoa  at  'ome,  ar,"  Mrs.  Flint  went  on  uueumtiuo- 
a%, "  bat  Fm  not  sayin'  it  hain't  a  si^hA  eaaer  to  do  fer  one 
than  fer  two." 

"  There's  always  that  ade  to  it,"  he  mnsed  dri)^.  *Eveiy 
dood  has  its  silva-  lining  dh,  Mrs.  Flint?  How  is  my 
father? - 

Her  face  took  on  an  elaborate  look  of  foiebodotg,  for  she 
£d  not  hdld  with  Jerry  in  bieakiiig  away.  It  seemed  indi- 
rectly to  reflect  i^on  her  as  Ae  goddess  of  the  domestic 
madiine. 

"  "E's  weD,  an'  never  speaks  yoor name;  nor  I  neither,  for 
diat  matter.  Not  that  I  woiddn't,  if  'e  eucxmiaged  it" 
Jerr>*  winced.  "But  wot  I  sex  is,  let  slee^*  dawgs  fie. 
No,  ar,  'e  seems  to  *ave  fovgot  3foa  ahogether-fifce." 

Jerry  shifted  his  cargo  with  a  return  of  lus  old  resentment 
toward  her,  a  middle-dass  soal  in  a  middle-dass  body. 

"  Mrs.  Ffint,"  he  adced  gravely, "  wiQ  yoa  tell  my  faither 
this?  That  Fm  livii^  dose  by,  here  in  Eighth  Street,  if  be 
shoald  want  me.    Yoa  can  see  the  boose  faom  hen,  the 


2IO  BLIND  WISDOM 

with  green  blinds.    Also  tell  him "  he  hesitated,  then 

went  on  quickly,  "  I  am  to  be  married  to-morrow  even- 
ing at  the  Church  of  the  Transfiguration, — a  simple  cere- 
mony with  no  frills.  It  is  Joan  Wister  who  is  honoring  me 
— Godfrey  Blunt's  sister-in-law.  That  ought  to  please  him. 
Tell  him  I  should  like  him  to  be  present,  if  he  is  sufi&ciently 
interested  to  do  so,"  and  he  left  her  abruptly. 

That  very  afternoon  he  made  the  same  announcement  to 
Lily  Gray,  who  was  working  for  him  outside  office  hours. 
Lily  had  come  to  deliver  the  second  act  of  his  new  play, 
bound  professionally  between  stout  blue  covers  in  the  way 
that  Jerry  had  taught  her.  She  wore  one  of  those  irrepres- 
sible little  spring  turbans  that  make  their  appearance  along 
in  February,  red  as  the  sins  of  the  Borgias,  though  in  reality 
of  a  touching  innocence.  It  nestled  closely  to  her  blond  hair 
and  was  only  equalled  in  daring  by  the  red  of  her  rouged 
lips.  Her  powdered  face  with  its  trite  prettiness,  her  ex- 
travagant blouse  and  audacious  suit  impressed  Callendar 
that  day  as  the  cry  of  youth  for  beauty.  At  sight  of  the 
changed  interior  of  his  dwelling  her  mouth  fell  open. 

"  I'd  say  you're  swell  here.  When'd  you  do  it  ?  What- 
ever struck  you,  Mr.  Callendar?  " 

"  It's  just  finished,"  Jerry  answered  good-humoredly,  ig- 
noring the  last  question.  "  Pails  and  painters  walked  out 
yesterday." 

Lily  moved  dazedly  from  room  to  room,  her  lips  still 
slightly  apart,  her  fingers  in  a  broken  glove  reaching  out  to 
try  the  yet  sticky  paint. 

"  Don't  I  just ! "  she  assented,  and,  unconscious  of  any 
lack  of  delicacy,  "  My  Gawd,  whose  room  is  this  ?  " 

She  had  climbed  to  the  gallery  and  found  his  altar  to 
Joan,  and  though  still  unsuspicious  her  face  was  puckering 
with  wistfulness,  the  sight  of  such  daintiness  being  almost 
unbearable. 


GODFREY  ASSISTS  FATE  211 

*'  Oh,  but  I  say,  Mr.  Callendar,  you  didn't  do  all  this  for 
yourself.    You  wouldn't  be  wanting  curtains  like  them  jest 

for "     She    smothered   her   rising   suspicions   till    the 

further  fittings  of  the  room  substantiated  them, — the  dress- 
ing-table, for  instance.  At  that  discovery  she  turned  and 
looked  up  at  Jerry,  whose  face  wore  an  expression  of  sensi- 
tiveness and  reserve.  The  impossible  had  happened, — Jerry 
was  bringing  home  a  bride. 

"  Oh,"  was  drawn  from  her  in  dismay. 

"  I'm  going  to  be  married,  Lily,"  Jerry  told  her  gravely, 
and  for  some  reason  he  felt  apologetic,  compassionate.  She 
must  feel  that  contrast,  another  girl  to  be  sheltered,  while 
she  was  still  out  in  the  cold.  "  The  reason  I  haven't  men- 
tioned it  before  is  that  it's  a  brand  new  engagement — I'm 
hardly  sure  of  her  yet."  By  his  smile  she  saw  that  he  was 
very  happy,  and  she  thought  manfully,  "  Now  I  am  glad, 
honest  and  true,  if  he's  got  what  he  wants,"  But  the  next 
second  the  eternal  feminine  asserted  itself,  "  I'll  bet  my  hat 
she  ain't  good  enough  for  him — no  dame  is." 

"  It's  Joan  Wister  who's  taking  this  tremendous  chance," 
Jerry  went  on  boyishly,  when  he  felt  it  safe  to  proceed. 
"You  remember  her,  of  course— how  it  was  through  her 
you  ever  came  to  me ?  " 

"  Sure  I  remember."  Lily  was  buttoning  her  jacket 
tightly  about  her  throat,  as  though  she  felt  a  draught. 
"Yep,  she  was  a  good  kid,  all  right.  I  suppose  she  looks 
older  now." 

Jerry  lowered  his  voice. 

"  She*s  the  loveliest  thing  on  earth,"  he  confided  seriously, 
and  somehow  Lily  knew  that  he  was  revealing  himself  for 
the  first  time.  "  Look,  there's  her  photograph,"  but  when 
he  had  placed  it  in  Lily's  hand  he  began  apologizing  for  its 
inadequacy  as  one  is  certain  to  do  where  the  original  is  be- 
loved.    "  She's    thoroughly    unaffected    and    democratic," 


212  BLIND  WISDOM 

Jerry  continued  to  sing  Joan's  praises,  "  and  she  has  no  idea 
how  rare  and  precious  she  is.  That's  the  sweet  part  of  her. 
Can't  you  tell  by  her  eyes  what  a  dream  world  she  lives  in  ?  " 

Lily  gave  one  furtive  glance  at  the  photograph  and  hastily 
returned  it.  She  seemed  anxious  to  be  gone.  At  the  door 
she  made  a  supreme  effort,  turned  and  extended  the  limp 
hand  of  a  thoroughly  good  fellow  endeavoring  to  be  a 
lady. 

"  I'm  sure  I  hope  you'll  be  very  happy,  Mr.  Callendar," 
she  reeled  oflF  the  meaningless  words  like  a  phonograph. 
"  Congratoolations ! " 

But  once  outside  in  the  street  she  put  her  face  into  her 
mangy  muff  and  whispered : 

"  Oh,  Gawd,  oh,  Gawd,  whyever  was  I  born  ?  Whyever 
did  I  look  at  him  ?  "  and  gave  way  to  the  feminine  preroga- 
tive of  tears.  Thus  indifferent  to  the  course  she  was  steer- 
ing, she  came  presently  into  collision  with  a  broad-bosomed 
lady  on  a  vigorous  tack. 

"  Look  where  you're  goin' ! "  admonished  the  stout  person 
in  a  shrill  voice.    "  Where's  your  eyes  ?  " 

Lily  proved  beyond  question  that  they  were  still  in  her 
head. 

"  Where's  your  own  lamps  ? "  she  clawed  back,  and, 
equilibrium  restored  by  the  roused  fighting  instinct  of  the 
city  waif,  she  swallowed  the  last  sob  and  opening  her  vanity 
case  armored  herself  with  a  thick  coating  of  powder.  With- 
out erasing  a  particle  of  it,  she  turned  into  the  subway. 

It  was  evening  of  the  following  day,  and  in  her  room  at 
the  Blunts*  Joan  was  dressing.  She  and  Jerry  Callendar 
had  been  married  an  hour  before.  There  was  no  flaw  in  the 
ceremony,  she  kept  reminding  herself.  If  aught  else  had 
been  lacking,  there  was  the  presence  of  her  mother  to  con- 
firm its  validity.    Mrs.  Wister  would  stand  till  her  grave 


GODFREY  ASSISTS  FATE  213 

for  a  gilt-edged  security.  Joan  and  Jerry  were  tied  with 
amazing  security. 

Discarding  that  outworn  self,  Joan  Wister,  was  like  step- 
ping out  of  a  petticoat,  as  brief  and  simple  a  process.  And 
henceforth  she  was  absurdly  to  be  known  as  Mrs.  Jeremiah 
Callendar. 

In  the  room  below  her  husband  awaited  her,  kind  Jerry, 
who  was  now  almost  a  stranger  in  the  role  he  played.  She 
saw  again  the  little  chapel  of  the  Rectory  in  Twenty-ninth 
Street,  holding  a  luminous  quality  in  its  dimness,  as  a  sea- 
shell  holds  the  sound  of  the  sea.  She  remembered  the  be- 
nign face  of  the  clergyman,  who  was  large  and  who  talked 
an  endless  prelude  of  friendliness  and  advice.  At  the  most 
solemn  part  of  it  all  she  had  remarked  that  there  were  white 
tufts  of  hair  growing  from  his  ears.  In  the  background  her 
people  had  stood  in  nebulous  group,  her  mother  fatalistic, 
Agnes  weeping  a  little,  Claire  and  Godfrey  nervous,  but  re- 
strained. They  were  all  fond  of  Jerry,  and  though  Mrs. 
Wister  did  not  consider  him  by  any  means  a  great  financial 
catch,  she  knew  that,  with  the  loss  of  their  position  In 
Crannsford,  fifty  per  cent,  of  Joan's  social  value  was 
gone. 

With  a  few  profound  words  the  actual  knot  was  tied,  as 
though  words  alone  were  empowered  to  marry  them.  At 
the  time  when  she  had  besought  Jerry  to  save  her,  Joan  had 
believed  in  this  fallacy,  had  held  that  willingness  and  grati- 
tude, coupled  with  the  blessing  of  the  church,  would  be  suf- 
ficient to  accomplish  the  miracle.  But  now  the  improbabil- 
ity of  the  whole  thing  was  clear  to  her,  though  she  had 
admired  and  trusted  Jerry  the  entire  time. 

Among  her  bags  and  boxes  she  contemplated  the  gold 
band  on  her  finger,  small,  yet  heavy  as  the  obligation  she  had 
assumed.  Once  she  slipped  it  off  in  panic,  only  to  replace  it 
as  quickly  with  an  inward  apology.    It  was  strange  that  not 


214  BLIND  WISDOM 

once  had  she  recognized  Jerry's  precarious  business  future 
as  a  factor  to  affect  them.  She  had  scarcely  even  remarked 
the  absence  of  his  father  from  the  ceremony,  though  her 
mother  had  been  bitterly  conscious  of  it 

"  Do  you  think,"  she  had  whispered  to  Godfrey,  "  that  he 
would  do  anything  so  radical  as  disinherit  him  ?  " 

Godfrey  had  laughed  his  ridicule. 

"  I'd  sooner  say  the  truth  is  he's  eating  his  heart  out  to 
have  him  back,  but  the  old  man's  too  all-fired  proud  to  let 
on.  But  even  if  reconciliation  were  impossible,  and  granted 
that  Jerry  doesn't  make  a  top-notch  playwright,  even  then," 
Godfrey  pointed  out  brightly,  "  don't  you  see  he'd  still  be 
Jerry  Callendar,  and  you  could  starve  with  him  and  feel 
yourself  an  epicure.  You  could  be  drawn  through  a  knot- 
hole and  still  have  the  time  of  your  life." 

Mrs.  Wister  nodded  doubtfully,  she  being  constitutionally 
unable  to  appreciate  Jerry's  superiority. 

Rousing  herself  sharply,  Joan  resumed  her  packing.  Her 
trunks  had  been  dispatched  earlier,  but  her  immediate  per- 
sonal things  remained.  One  stipulation  she  had  made, — 
there  was  to  be  no  barbaric  honeymoon.  Their  life  to- 
gether was  to  be  undertaken  with  "  prayer  and  fasting,"  so 
to  speak,  and  thanksgiving  offered  for  each  successful  day 
that  marked  the  experiment.  They  wished  to  be  left  alone 
for  a  time  in  this  delicate  and  difficult  beginning.  When  the 
last  bag  was  ready  she  was  still  loath  to  descend  and  seated 
herself  vaguely  on  the  bed,  bidding  farewell  to  the  ties  of  her 
girlhood. 

She  would  not  allow  herself  to  think  of  Ballou  that  day, 
with  the  result  that  a  sense  of  abstract  loss  weighed  heavily 
upon  her.  Forbidding  him  the  door  of  her  heart  was  the 
worst  loneliness  of  all.  Some  one  was  rapping  peremptorily. 
She  threw  her  reserves  hastily  about  her,  and  called  in  a 
strained  voice,  "  I'm  most  ready,  Jerry," 


GODFREY  ASSISTS  FATE  215 

But  the  voice  without  said  shortly: 

"  Let  me  in,  Joan." 

It  was  not  Jerry,  after  all.  She  turned  the  key  to  con- 
front Godfrey,  still  in  wedding  finery,  but  with  a  new,  un- 
comfortable air  of  import. 

"  I  want  to  talk  to  you,"  he  announced  obviously,  and 
following  her  in  closed  the  door  with  precision.  Just  so  a 
child  might  fidget  before  disclosing  some  piece  of  deviltry. 
He  tightened  the  straps  of  her  bags  and  performed  other 
offices  before  her  silence  became  interrogative. 

"  Joan,"  he  turned  a  half  apologetic  face  at  last,  "  there 
is  just  something  I  wanted  to  say.  Don't  look  like  that. 
It's  nothing  that  ought  to  affect  you,  that  can  affect  you  now, 
if  you  take  it  like  a  real  woman.  Come  over  here  and  sit 
down  where  I  can  lend  a  brotherly  shoulder.  Hm,  the  only 
reason  I  mention  this  thing  at  all  is  that  some  o'ne  is  certain 
to  before  long,  and  it's  only  fair  to  give  you  a  chance  to  for- 
tify yourself.     I'd  rather  you  had  it  first  from  me." 

Had  what  from  him  ?  Joan's  apprehension  was  growing. 
Something  in  his  manner,  the  trace  of  self-congratulation,  of 
piety  and  secret  pleasure  roused  her  sharp  distrust.  Just  so 
Agnes  had  acted  when  she  made  the  announcement  of  Bret's 
marriage. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked  guardedly,  and  as  he  pulled  at 
her  hand,  "  I  don't  need  a  shoulder,  thanks,  but  it's  rather 
horrid  of  you  to  keep  me  in  suspense." 

"  Joan "    He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  cleared  his 

throat.  *'  I've  known,  of  course,  about  you  and  Bret  Ballou. 
I— I  was  more  than  sorry  that  Aggie  and  I  hadn't  taken  the 
matter  in  hand  sooner.  If  I'd  known  at  first  how  you  felt 
toward  him,  I  should  have  looked  up  his  past  few  years. 
Eventually  I  did.  It  was  tough  that  you  should  have  gone 
so  far  only  to  get  a  wallop  at  the  end.    But  I  blame  Ballou." 

"  Well,  that's  over,"  she  said  dully. 


2i6  BLIND  WISDOM 

**  Yes,  thank  Heaven.  And  nothing  that  happens  now  can 
make  any  difference.    You  promise  me  that  ?  " 

"  You  promise  me,"  she  countered  bitterly,  "  that  you 
won't  be  crushed  if  the  roof  falls  on  your  head." 

"Meaning?" 

"  Meaning,  how  can  I  say  ?  " 

He  nerved  himself  for  what  now  appeared  an  ordeal. 

"  Here  it  is, '  J,' — Bret's  wife  died  yesterday.  She  caught 
pneumonia  by  running  out  into  the  snow  in  her  night-dress, 
poor  lunatic !    That  was  why  Ballou  left  town  so  suddenly." 

In  the  silence  which  followed  Godfrey  pressed  her  hand 
anxiously,  wishing  that  she  would  not  do  anything  so  simple 
as  to  faint.  But  she  sank  suddenly  into  a  chair,  staring  into 
space  and  emitting  no  sound.  After  what  seemed  an  eter- 
nity, she  asked  in  a  strange,  flat  voice : 

"  You've  known  all  day,  and  yet  you  let  me  go  through 
with  this  marriage  ?  " 

Godfrey's  chin  grew  square  and  tenacious. 

"  Yes,  I  have,  and  I'm  not  ashamed  of  what  I've  done.  I 
was  bound  that  Jerry  should  come  into  his  own.  He's  al- 
ways been  passed  by  when  it  came  to  any  real  strokes  of 
luck.  A  fine  chap,  but  one  that  needs  assistance — just  the 
kind  Fate  put  in  his  hands.  I  was  merely  assisting  him  to 
keep  it.  He's  lived  for  and  in  you  ever  since  you  put  your 
hair  up,  and  though  he's  felt  as  a  man  feels  he's  acted  as 
sexless  as  your  grandmother.  Of  course  he's  been  a  damn 
fool  to  think  you  would  appreciate  that." 

She  turned  upon  him  accusingly. 

"  Of  course  it  would  be  your  doing  and  not  Jerry's — ^your 
idea  of  honor  and  not  his.  Forgive  me,  Godfrey,  but  I  can't 
forgive  you.  You've  ruined  his  life  as  well  as  mine  and 
Bret's  into  the  bargain.  Oh,  why  did  you  meddle?"  and 
she  wrung  her  hands.  **  Do  you  imagine  Jerry  will  want  me 
when  he  learns  of  this  and  knows  I'm  wild  to  break  away 


GODFREY  ASSISTS  FATE  217 

from  him  ?  Oh,  I  tell  you  I  can't  go  through  with  it.  Bet- 
ter for  us  to  separate  while  our  marriage  is  still  only  one  of 
form." 

Godfrey  too  had  paled,  and  his  usually  worldly  face 
looked  almost  ascetic  through  the  serious  issues  involved. 
He  put  out  a  supplicating  hand. 

"  Joan,  you  wouldn't  do  that  to  poor  Jerry,  my  friend, 
your  friend.  Think  what  he's  been  to  all  of  us.  No,  you'll 
have  to  go  through  with  it  as  best  you  can." 

She  was  all  at  once  like  a  fairy  child  in  tempest. 

"  Will  I  ?  Wait  and  see.  It  wouldn't  be  decent,  Godfrey, 
crucifying  all  three  of  us." 

She  flung  herself  on  the  bed  and  buried  her  face  in  the 
pillow.  Godfrey  rose  and  wheeled  miserably  about  the 
room,  one  nervous  fist  striking  the  palm  of  his  other 
hand. 

"  How  do  you  know  Ballou  wants  to  marry  you  ?  **  he 
brought  out  in  true  lawyer  fashion.  "  I  don't  believe  that 
fish  will  ever  be  caught  again." 

Then,  repenting  the  insult,  he  bent  over  and  touched  her 
with  a  tremulous  hand. 

"  Joan,"  he  entreated  hoarsely,  "  for  God's  sake,  play  up ! 
In  books  the  heroine  turns  marriage  into  mockeries,  but  in 
reality  it's  no  light  thing  to  mar  a  man's  life." 

She  lifted  her  face  and  her  eyes  smote  him  queerly,  limpid 
as  they  were  with  pain. 

"  I  can't  give  myself  to  Jerry  now  that  I  know  Bret  is 
free."  And  starting  up  in  desperation  she  began  pushing 
the  bags  about  on  the  floor.  "  Go  find  Jerry  and  let  us  settle 
it  in  our  own  way.  He'll  understand  as  no  other  man  would. 
Thank  God  it's  Jerry  and  not  some  one  else." 

She  paused  in  contrition,  for  Godfrey's  attitude  was  sin- 
cerely sorrowing, 

"  Godfrey,  Godfrey,  I  know  you  love  Jerry,  and  I — I  too 


2i8  BLIND  WISDOM 

love  him.  I'd  do  anything  for  him  but  that.  Will  you  send 
him  to  me  ?  " 

Godfrey  thrust  her  roughly  away. 

"  Yes,  I  will,  you  poor,  misguided  girl,  and  when  you've 
messed  up  his  life  and  your  own  you  can  remember  that  I 
tried  to  save  you,"  and  he  slammed  out  of  the  room,  angrier 
than  he  had  ever  been  in  his  life. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

JERRY  ASSERTS  HIMSELF 

While  Joan  awaited  Jerry  she  was  careful  to  reassure 
herself.  Drawing  aside  the  drapery  at  the  window,  she 
appealed  to  the  night  for  courage,  feeding  upon  the  lights  to 
hearten  her.  If  it  were  any  one  else  in  the  world  but  Jerry 
she  might  indeed  dread  being  held  to  the  letter  of  her  bar- 
gain. But  Jerry's  clasp  on  things  fragile  was  so  sensitive 
that  spun  glass  would  have  been  safe  in  his  hands.  Never- 
theless, wheeling  to  find  him  in  the  doorway,  her  heart  es- 
sayed painful  tricks  with  her.  He  must  have  been  standing 
there  some  time;  he  was  watching  her  levelly  but  his  face 
showed  none  of  the  speculative  meanness  that  will  some- 
times betray  a  soul  off-guard.  Now  on  his  wedding  day  he 
was  more  than  ordinarily  well-groomed.  Having  come  of 
generations  of  gentlemen  he  embodied  those  finer  points  of 
breeding  which  he  theoretically  despised  as  undemocratic. 
While  yearning  to  the  masses  he  yet  remained  inevitably  the 
patrician.  And  to-night  Joan  saw  in  him  a  new  sense  of 
solidarity,  his  forces  coordinated,  a  vagrancy  arrested,  as 
though  his  responsibility  toward  her  had  acted  as  an  as- 
tringent. And  yet  she  had  only  to  pour  forth  her  story  to 
be  exonerated  of  blame,  to  be  free  of  her  bonds. 

"You  sent  for  me?" 

The  voice  was  neither  apprehensive  nor  intimidating.  She 
nodded  hopefully.     Soon  it  was  all  happening  as  she  had 


220  BLIND  WISDOM 

known  it  would  happen, — Jerry  beside  her  with  a  cigarette 
and  a  thoughtful,  attentive  manner,  discounting,  if  he  had 
observed,  her  wild  demeanor.  She  reached  for  his  chari- 
table gaze  and  drew  it  down  to  her.  He  had  known  of 
Ballou  through  her  own  confession,  so  there  was  not  that  to 
need  resurrecting.  The  bitter-sweetness  of  Bret's  liberation 
was  still  so  fresh  that  not  until  she  repeated  it  to  Jerry  did 
she  realize  it  entirely. 

"  Oh,  Jerry,  I've  made  a  mess  of  life ;  I've  been  an  im- 
petuous little  fool,  and  judgment  has  come  upon  me.  I  tried 
to  escape  destiny,  I  was  afraid  of  losing  my  middle-class 
respectability,  and  so  I  fled  from  Bret  who  loved  me.  He 
told  me  to  be  patient  and  trusting  and  I  promised  that  I 
would.  But  the  minute  I  was  away  from  him  I  was  filled 
with  horror  and  doubt.  Do  you  realize  the  ghastly  thing 
I've  led  us  all  into  ?  " 

She  passed  her  hands  over  her  face.  Then  suddenly  her 
eyes  were  round-open  with  a  pin-point  of  light  in  the  centre 
of  each. 

"  Oh,  Jerry,  the  whole  thing  must  be  a  dream.  Pinch  me 
and  see  if  you  can  wake  me  up !  No,  no,  it's  real  and  you 
have  a  right  to  curse  and  abuse  me.  But  I'm  suffering  hor- 
ribly as  it  is.  I'm  repaid  for  my  folly  for  all  time.  Tell 
me  you  understand  and  will  make  it  right  ?  " 

But  during  that  young,  irrational  outpouring  Jerry's  ex- 
pression had  not  changed.  His  eyes  held  steadily,  sym- 
pathetically in  hers — the  immobile  mouth  kept  emotion  in 
abeyance.  Time  and  again  she  assured  herself  that  Jerry 
was  playing  true  to  type, — he  was  sorry  for  her.  Only  one 
discovery  swerved  her  from  self-pity  to  greater  remorse  for 
what  she  had  done  to  him, — he  was  growing  a  little  gray. 
Perhaps  that  was  because  people  leaned  their  elbows  on  his 
soul ;  there  were  the  pensioners  of  whom  he  had  once  told 
her,  derelicts  at  some  time  feeling  the  pinch  of  the  law,  who 


JERRY  ASSERTS  HIMSELF  2U 

made  him  responsible  for  their  back-slidings  and  side-step- 
pings,  and  a  score  or  more  of  other  leeches,  and  there  were 
the  protegees  like  Lily  who  relied  on  his  guidance.  Joan 
told  herself  that  she  did  not  deserve  the  everlasting  goodness 
of  Jerry  and  she  touched  him  on  the  wrists,  her  warm,  small 
hands  thrusting  themselves  up  his  coat  sleeves  in  almost  in- 
tolerable caresses. 

"  Dear,  darling  Jerry,  I'm  the  most  wretched  girl  alive, 
not  only  for  my  own  mistake  but  for  what  I've  brought  upon 
you.  I'll  scrub  floors  for  you,  Jerry,  I'll  make  you  a  pil- 
grimage each  day  on  my  bended  knees  if  you'll  only  find  a 
way  out  for  both  of  us !  " 

At  last  he  spoke. 

"  So  he's  free  now." 

He  laughed  shortly  and  that  laugh  was  stranger  to  Joan ; 
it  was  inscrutable.  She  went  on  fearfully  stroking  his 
wrists  and  feeling  the  veins  in  high  relief  along  the  backs  of 
his  hands  as  though  the  blood  clamored  to  burst  forth. 

"  He's  free,"  she  nodded  sorrowfully,  "  and  don't  you  see 
how  that  changes  the  aspect  of  our  marriage  ?  Before  there 
seemed  no  prospect  that  Bret  and  I  could  ever  honorably 
belong  to  one  another  and  I  was  so  wild  with  pain  that  I 
fled  to  you  and  asked  you  to  take  me  into  your  life,     I'm 

still  your  very  loving  Joan,  Jerry,  but  I "     She  flushed 

agonizingly.  "  I  cannot  be  your  wife."  And  then,  hating 
to  have  hurt  him,  "  It  isn't  as  though  we  hadn't  decided  upon 
a  merely  sensible  marriage,  is  it,  Jerry  ?  Not  as  though  you 
really  wanted  it  before  I  was  audacious  enough  to  sug- 
gest  "     She  was  stroking  his  wrists  rather  frantically 

now.  "  You  were  only  sorry  for  me.  Oh,  won't  you  please 
say  that  you  did  it  out  of  generosity?  I'd  hate  most  awfully 
to  think  that  you  did  care." 

Again  Jerry  laughed.  Here  was  the  quintessence  of 
irony.    He  must  profess  to  have  married  her  for  Quixotic 


222  BUND  WISDOM 

reasons  and  on  his  wedding  day  to  promise  that  the  marriage 
should  be  annulled.  The  idea  was  fantastically  original  and 
modem  and  mi^t  well  serve  as  a  theme  for  drama. 

"  I  wanted  to  be  accommodating,  of  course,"  he  was  moved 
to  remark  drily.  Such  an  assertion  whether  made  in  sar- 
casm or  seriousness  was  out  of  character  and  she  groped  for 
the  gesture  behind  it 

"  Then  you'll  just  go  and  leave  me  here,  Jerry,  as  though 
it  never  happened." 

There  was  no  response  and  she  bent  anxiously  nearer, 
waiting  for  the  tender  assurance  that  was  somehow  delayed 
in  coming.  As  he  continued  to  stare  straight  before  him 
her  eyes  narrowed  incredulously,  the  nostrils  dilated  like 
those  of  some  high-bred  animal.  She  bit  her  lip.  Then, 
scarcely  to  be  convinced,  she  must  peer  again  beneath  his 
curiously  veiled  eyes,  like  a  child  discovering  in  a  hitherto 
indulgent  and  facile  parent  a  stem,  inexorable  strain.  When 
he  answered  it  was  not  the  voice  of  the  fool  and  angel  at  all. 
After  years  of  paddling  in  the  sunny  shallows  of  his  nature 
she  had  suddenly  dropped  to  her  neck  in  deep  water  and  all 
beneath  her  feet  was  bed-rock. 

"  I'm  sorry,  Joan,  that  I  can't  consider  leaving  you  here, 
but  it's  out  of  the  question.  First  and  foremost,  I  demand 
the  right  to  protect  yoiL  Then  too,  I  have  a  man's  pride 
that  you  cannot  disregard  utterly." 

"  Not  leave  me?  "  her  faculties  had  not  obtained  beyond 
that  thought 

"  Assuredly  not,"  he  answered  implacably  and  his  right 
hand  which  still  held  the  cigarette  had  lost  its  congested  ai>- 
pearance.  It  looked  quite  cool -and  firm  now  as  from  ac- 
complished action.  She  gathered  strength  for  a  feeble  at- 
tack. 

"  You  can't  mean  that,  Jerry.  You  must  be  making  some 
ghastly  kind  of  joke.    I  don't  understand  you.    We  could 


JERRY  ASSERTS  HIMSELF  2*3 

explain  to  Mother  and  the  girls  how  the  horrible  mistake 
came  about  and  the  world  need  hardly  know  it  had  ever 
occurred.  And  when  we  were  free  I'd  make  you  every 
reparation  as  I  promised  before — my  life  should  be  a  living 
apology ! " 

But  he  who  professionally  dealt  in  words  was  not  to  be 
beguiled  by  them  now.  Her  pleading  affected  him  no  more 
than  the  prattling  of  a  child.  He  might  smile,  he  might  be 
gentle,  but  the  iron  strain  was  at  last  apparent. 

"  That's  absurd,  of  course,  you  owe  me  nothing  of  the 
sort.  You  have  a  right  to  seek  happiness,  only  I  intend  to 
make  it  my  business  now  to  see  that  you  are  not  defrauded. 
You  say,  would  to  God  that  you  were  free ;  I  say,  '  Thank 
God,  you  have  a  defender.'  You  must  remember,  little 
Joan,  that  you  took  my  name  volimtarily.  I  must  insist 
therefore  that  you  remain  beneath  the  protection  of  it,  for  a 
time  ostensibly  at  least.     Are  you  ready  to  go  ?  " 

A  wild  and  ignoble  doubt  entered  her  mind  like  a  sneak 
thief,  before  she  had  had  time  to  examine  its  credentials. 
Her  knowledge  of  men  was  negligible.  Even  such  an  old 
friendship  as  theirs  might  be  no  guaranty  against  an  author- 
ized tyranny!    What  if — what  if ?    As  she  drew  back 

from  him  he  saw  that  she  both  mentally  and  physically 
reeled.  Such  abject  fear  was  a  thing  no  man  could  look 
upon  without  holy  remorse  and  reassurance.  He  had  had 
no  idea  of  her  panic  till  she  gasped : 

"  I  can't  go  through  with  it,"  then  sat  twisting  the  stuff  of 
her  frock  into  strings. 

He  had  fought  shy  of  women  all  his  life  but  there  was 
that  in  his  nature  which  had  always  helped  him  to  under- 
stand Joan,  and  now  he  shared  her  jeopardy.  The  compas- 
sion, which  was  the  dominant  quality  of  his  manhood,  pre- 
vailed. By  almost  superhuman  effort  he  had  dropped  his 
high  tone  of  husbandly  dignity;  he  had  performed  conjuring 


224  BLIND  WISDOM 

tricks  with  time,  setting  them  both  back  to  their  'days  of 
comradeship. 

"  Listen,  little  Joan,  and  let  us  be  very  patient  with  one 
another,  very  human  and  friendly  in  our  arguments.  I  shall 
speak  simply  and  sincerely  so  that  you  may  say  to  yourself, 
*  It's  old  Jerry  haranguing  me  now  just  as  in  the  days  when 
we  discussed  God  and  the  universe.  He's  never  steered  me 
wrong,  and  even  though  in  this  case  I  may  not  agree  with 
him,  I'll  believe  that  he  has  no  selfish  axe  to  grind.'  There 
now,  is  it  agreed  ?  Righto !  First  of  all  I  am  not  gross.  I 
am  human  as  other  men  are  but  not  gross.  I  should  hate  to 
live  with  myself  if  I  were.  I've  loved  you  altogether  but  it's 
the  soul  of  you  I've  loved  most,  the  intrinsic  you — the  you 
that  I  want  to  serve  now.  Joan,  when  you  say  that  silly  im- 
pulse drove  you  from  that  fellow  how  do  you  know  it  wasn't 
something  higher,  intuition  f  " 

"  Oh,  because,"  she  broke  in  with  high  sweet  voice,  "  be- 
cause I  regret  it  already." 

"  But  the  end  is  not  yet,"  pointed  out  Jerry.  "  Joan,  Joan, 
don't  you  see  that  after  all  these  years  I've  known  you  I 
can't  let  you  wreck  your  life  on  the  first  uncharted  rock,  as 
you  were  about  to  do  if  you  hadn't  remembered  me?  I 
don't  recognize  this  infatuation  as  a  godlike,  enduring  pas- 
sion. I  want  to  know  what  effect  time  will  have  upon  it, 
time — and — and  weather.  I'm  older  than  you,  I'm  some- 
what dusty  and  disillusioned  while  you're  radiantly  fresh, 
but  it's  the  dusty  ones  who  know  how  to  value  and  protect 
beauty.  And  I'm  not  at  all  sure  you  could  ever  be  happy 
with  this  man  you  say  you  love.  What  is  it  in  him  that  ap- 
peals to  you,  Joan  ?    Is  it  his  gilded  youth?  '* 

At  the  sudden  question  she  looked  as  if  his  powers  of 
divination  were  uncanny,  as  if  he  had  shown  her  something 
she  did  not  know  she  possessed. 

"  His  youth  ?    Perhaps  it  is  partly  that." 


JERRY  ASSERTS  HIMSELF  225 

She  sighed  profoundly  but  Jerry's  sigh  was  inward.  He 
had  not  known  the  value  of  that  illumined  "  to  be  "  till  it 
had  retrograded  to  a  "  might  have  been."  The  truth  was 
that  Joan  had  spun  dreams  about  life  without  any  wide- 
awake experience.  Marriage  was  a  door  she  had  approached 
with  her  "  open  sesame,"  till  now,  dismayed  by  the  obscurity 
within,  she  was  weeping  to  break  forth,  seeking  the  magic 
word  that  would  swing  back  the  ponderous  door. 

Jerry  did  not  deceive  himself ;  he  did  not  pretend  that  he 
had  married  her  altogether  through  altruism.  No,  he  might, 
he  probably  would  be  capable  of  releasing  her  for  such  a 
reason  but  to  have  married  without  strong  attraction,  with 
phlegmatic  indifference,  never !  But,  although  he  was  soriy 
for  himself  he  would  not  have  been  Jerry  had  he  not  been 
sorrier  for  Joan,  poor  little  disappointed  princess.  Even  as 
he  gazed  upon  her  now  he  felt  his  bitterness  subsiding,  cen- 
sored by  justice.  She  was  not  to  blame;  the  fault  lay  at  the 
esoteric  heart  of  things. 

She  sat  on  a  little  stool  in  the  centre  of  Agnes*  blue  bed- 
room rug,  solitary  as  a  symbolic  figure,  grounded  in  lapis 
lazuli,  a  composition  entitled  "Youth,  dreaming"  perhaps, 
yet  hardly  that,  since  she  bore  the  prophetic  look  of  all  ages. 
Her  hands  were  fastened  fatally  about  her  knees,  the  Ma- 
donna-like hair  wound  its  soft  mystery  like  a  scarf  about  her 
head — the  eyes  looked  upon  a  pageant  of  unknown  future 
days. 

He  thought  with  a  clean  heart  that  the  slender  boyish 
limbs,  revealed  through  the  slimpsy  frock,  were  such  as  to 
be  perpetuated  in  marble.  Seeing  her  as  it  were  on  her  little 
island  in  the  blue  sea  of  fate  he  was  struck  to  the  heart. 

"  Put  on  your  coat,"  he  bade  suddenly  in  a  kind  tone,  yet 
one  which  admitted  of  no  argument.  "  We  are  going 
home,"  and  as  she  betrayed  no  slightest  token  of  having 
heard  him  he  voyaged  across  the  lupin-blue  square  and 


226  BLIND  WISDOM 

spoke  down  like  a  gentled  Titan,  "  It  only  means  playing 
hostess  to  me  in  my  diggings  for  a  time,  a  doll's  house  ex- 
istence, as  dainty  and  as  gossamer  as  even  you  could  desire 
— it  only  means  not  giving  me  too  rough  a  dismissal.  Surely 
you  can  put  up  with  that,  and  after  we  have  given  your 
infatuation  time  to  prove  itself,  if  you  still  wish  to  go  you 
will  find  the  door  of  your  cage  open." 

He  had  meant  to  speak  cheerfully,  but  the  thing  went  too 
deep  with  him  so  that  his  voice  sagged.  The  little  figure  on 
the  stool  simply  nodded  like  a  mandarin  but  a  wild-rose  pink 
flowered  in  either  cheek.  In  his  morbid  sensitiveness  he  in- 
terpreted that  flush  as  a  reproach. 

"  There's'  one  thing  I  have  to  know,"  he  lost  control, 
"  how,  poor  child,  did  you  fancy  in  the  first  place  you  could 
stand  for  a  real  alliance?  Whatever  were  you  about, 
Joan?" 

He  was  breathing  hard  as  from  a  long  race  but  an  odd 
sense  of  unreality  brooded  over  him.  Never  before  had  he 
allowed  himself  or  even  felt  impelled  to  drag  her  to  earth 
with  fleshly  catechisms,  never  had  he  intimated  that  they 
were  in  their  natures  created  man  and  woman  and  as  such 
heirs  to  widely  diverse  endowments,  needs  and  limitations. 
And  now  he  felt  not  so  much  that  he  had  been  guilty  of  in- 
delicacy as  of  dunderheadedness.  It  was  like  transfixing  a 
butterfly  by  either  wing  and  asking  it  to  explain  its  color 
pattern,  while  the  poor  thing  struggled  and  pulsated.  And 
while  he  waited  hopelessly  she  began  to  flutter  and  palpitate 
like  the  creature  of  his  thought. 

"  I  don't  know  what  made  me  think  I  could  do  it,  Jerry, 
but  I  honestly  did.  You  must  accept  my  word  for  it.  Oh, 
you  must  at  least  believe  that.  After  a  few  days  it  was  as- 
tonishing how  used  I  became  to  the  Idea.  I  pictured  our 
friendship  stretching  like  an  elastic  band  to  almost  any 
length — and  believing  I  had  lost  the  other  it  seemed  a  fair 


JERRY  ASSERTS  HIMSELF  227 

compensation.  But  now — be  patient  with  me,  Jerry,  and 
don't  for  mercy's  sake  allow  your  feelings  to  be  hurt.  If 
you  do  don't  you  see  it  will  mean  death  to  frankness  for  all 
time!" 

He  came  back  vigorously : 

"  You  must  always  speak  what  is  in  your  mind  and  my 
feelings  will  never  be  hurt !  " 

"  But  you  do  insist  on  these  conditions !  I'm — to— 
go 

He  rose  and  gathered  her  bags  into  a  colony  at  the  door, 
then  holding  her  wrap  waited  significantly.  Remarkably 
heavy  were  the  arms  that  slid  into  it.  When  all  was  ready 
she  bade  the  room  a  mute  farewell. 

"  No  one  shall  say  that  I  haven't  played  fair ! "  The 
bleak  little  challenge  spun  swiftly  past  him  to  lodge  in  the 
wall. 

It  was  typical  of  that  phenomenon,  their  relationship,  that 
even  as  the  woman  in  her  set  up  insurmountable  barriers 
the  child  in  her  longed  to  throw  itself  on  his  breast  and  weep 
stormily.  Possibly  he  read  something  of  that  paradox  as 
they  set  forth  in  as  strained  circumstances  as  any  pair  that 
ever  dared  the  common  road.  But  they  went  off  with  cred- 
itable bravery. 

Accosting  the  eager  faces  below  was  like  going  from  a 
darkened  room  to  an  overlighted  one.  They  felt  themselves 
peculiarly  transparent  and  were  the  more  guarded  for  that 
reason.  But,  save  for  Agnes  and  Godfrey,  none  conceived 
a  doubt.  Afterward  Joan  remembered  the  strange  feel  of 
the  whole  situation,  Jerry's  hand  through  her  arm  and  the 
scent  of  the  carnation  that  he  wore,  her  own  lips  forming 
words  and  all  the  time  Godfrey's  eyes  that  pried  at  hers.  It 
was  only  in  the  taxi  that  her  control  gave  way  and  then  be- 
cause of  a  trivial  discovery.  Claire  had  made  them,  incon- 
gruously enough,  a  parting  gift.     It  was  a  sprinkling  of  rice ! 


CHAPTER  XXII 
A  DIFFICULT  BEGINNING 

During  her  first  week  in  Eighth  Street  Joan  received  but 
one  caller.  It  was  Lily  Gray,  climbing  the  stair,  for  there 
was  no  elevator,  with  a  portfolio  beneath  her  arm  and  a  con- 
spicuous drag  to  her  step.  What  she  lacked  in  buoyancy, 
however,  she  compensated  for  in  attire,  being  arrayed  with 
the  glory  of  Solomon.  When  she  rang  the  bell  on  the  third 
floor  she  shifted  from  foot  to  foot  with  nervous  defiance, 
she  arranged  her  features  to  cold  pleasantry  and  remarked 
to  herself  audibly : 

"  If  you  ain't — if  you  aren't  a  chump !  "  For  Jerry  had 
earnestly  warred  against  the  "  ain't "  which  stuck  in  Lily's 
vocabulary  like  a  second  molar  in  an  adult  mouth. 

When  Joan  Callendar  opened  the  door  she  shattered  by 
her  lack  of  pretension  Lily's  defences.  Lily  felt  her  rouge 
all  at  once  very  red  and  that  extra  tilt  to  her  hat  after  all 
superfluous. 

"  Won't  you  come  in  ?  "  asked  a  gracious  voice,  and  Lily 
found  the  pansy-dark  eyes  in  hers,  yet  there  in  the  dim 
corridor  Joan  had  failed  to  recognize  her. 

"  You're  Mrs.  Callendar,  o'  course,"  said  Lily  cheerfully, 
but  the  words  came  hard.  "  An'  I'm  Lily  Gray.  Guess  you 
wouldn't  know  me  now  I'm  a  New  Yorker,  eh?" 

"  But,  of  course,  how  stupid  of  me !  " 

Joan's  black  serge  frock  had  collars  and  cuffs  of  snowy 
organdie  and  on  her  feet  were  the  sort  of  flat-heeled  dancing 
pumps  that  children  are  made  to  effect  for  parties.    Her 


A  DIFFICULT  BEGINNING  229 

face  was  rather  pale  and  unaided  by  artificial  coloring.  But 
by  her  strangely  candid  eyes  and  her  loving  mouth  Lily  read 
the  secret  of  her  charm.  It  was  a  spell  to  which  women  as 
well  as  men  were  vulnerable.  Joan  gave  Lily  a  warm  look, 
and  recognizing  the  freemasonry  of  their  youth,  pressed  her 
hand. 

"  Why,  of  course,  Lily  Gray !  How  it  all  comes  back  to 
me,  the  wedding  and  your  father's  funeral.  And  here  we 
are  meeting  again  after  all  these  years.  Verily  truth  is 
stranger  than  fiction.  Don't  you  find  it  so  ?  Sit  down,  do, 
and  tell  me  what  wonderful  things  have  been  happening  to 
you  since  you  set  out  to  make  your  fortune  ?  " 

"  Wonderful  ? "  Lily  weighed  the  word  with  a  shadow  of 
irony. 

"  Wonderful  in  the  sense  of  epoch-making,  vital !  *'  Joan 
hastily  clarified  her  meaning,  for  she  shrank  from  being 
thought  effusive. 

Lily  had  seated  herself  gingerly  in  that  familiar  room 
where  she  had  been  accustomed  to  work  with  her  benefactor. 

"  I  guess  the  only  wonderful  thing  that's  happened  to  me 
all  this  time  is  that  I've  been  under  Mr.  Callendar's  wing. 
Gee,  I  often  think  if  you  hadn't  of  took  me  home  that  time 
and  he  hadn't  'a'  been  on  hand  for  the  rumpus — where'd  I 
be  now  ?  "     She  shrugged  her  shoulders  expressively. 

"  Oh,  Jerry  is  the  salt  of  the  earth,"  Joan  concurred 
heartily.     "  One  of  the  best !  " 

Lily  nodded,  her  carmined  lips  apart. 

"  He's  " — but  she  was  not  quite  capable  of  handling  the 
finest  essence  of  her  thought,  so  she  blurted,  letting  it  escape 
utterly — "he's  some  swell!" 

Joan  smiled. 

"And  I  expect  that  is  work  of  his  you  have  in  your 
case  now." 

Lily  proffered  it  with  a  holy  air  and  Joan  bent  her  eyes 


230  BLIND  WISDOM 

at  random  upon  the  pages,  saying  to  herself,  "  This  is  all  a 
part  of  the  man  I  married — the  unknown  man  I  thought  I 
knew,"  and  she  remembered  poor  Nora  Helmer  in  Ibsen's 
"A  Doll's  House,"  whose  plaint  was  that  she  had  lived  for 
years  with  a  strange  man  and  borne  him  children. 

"  Thanks,"  she  said,  "  I'll  give  it  to  him.  He's  told  me 
how  indispensable  you  are  to  him  and  I  can  only  say — only 
say  that  I  hope  I  may  be  half  so  intelligently  useful." 

Why  such  humility,  Lily  wondered!  And  why  the  tone 
of  friendly  neutrality  in  which  she  spoke  of  him !  "  What's 
bitin'  her  ? "  was  Lily's  inward  comment.  "  Mebbe  she 
don't  know  what  the  Lord  handed  her  when  she  got  him. 
Some  one'd  ought  to  put  her  wise."  Lily,  aching  with  envy, 
set  a  smile  to  guard  her  lips, 

"  Oh,  I  seen  how  you  already  done  him  good,"  she  offered 
generously.  "  This  room,  for  instance — he'll  do  better  plays 
now  the  green  dragon  wall  paper's  gone  and  the  janitor's 
wife  can't  bully  him.  A  combination  like  that  is  enough  to 
make  a  man  pessimistical.  Sometimes  he  uster  look  so  sad 
I  suspected  he  had  indigestion  in  the  bargain.  Well,  there's 
some  change,  *  before  an'  after ' !  " 

Joan  laughed  outright  but  her  underlying  thought  was  one 
of  amazement  that  a  person  of  Lily's  calibre  should  harbor 
critical  tendencies,  any  idea  at  all  about  the  plays  aside 
from  the  quality  of  her  typing. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  them — the  plays  he  has  written  ?  " 

"Oh,"  answered  Lily,  discounting  the  foibles  of  her 
master,  "  Nutty  but  harmless.  Give  me  somethin'  excitin* 
or  somethin'  with  a  thrill  to  it  or  the  sob  stuff !  But  these 
characters  o*  Mr.  Callendar's  don't  do  nothin'  scarcely  *cept 
talk.  They  sure  have  got  the  gift  o'  gab.  They're  all  balled 
up  in  trouble  but  they  don't  make  no  effort  to  get  out.  They 
rave  an'  rant  an'  cuss  things  from  hell  to  breakfast,  gettin* 
more  an'  more  wrought  up  till  they  croak." 


A  DIFFICULT  BEGINNING  231 

Joan  was  reminded  of  the  recipe  for  acting  attributed  to 
Sarah  Bernhardt  by  an  eminent  critic.  He  asserted  that  in 
her  plays  she  invariably  did  three  things,  "  cooed,  cawed  and 
died."  Lily  manipulated  the  gum  which  was  tucked  com- 
fortably into  her  cheek. 

"  What's  the  use  of  it,  I  say !  But  if  it  makes  him  happy 
to  write  such  stuff  then  I  wish  the  public  would  swallow  it 
if  it  choked." 

Joan  was  listening  seriously  now,  more  than  half  inclined 
to  believe  that  Lily's  criticism  carried  sound  judgment. 

"  I  see  what  you  mean — the  universal  appeal  is  lacking.*' 
And  then,  because  it  seemed  useless  to  enter  into  a  dis- 
cussion of  what  she  herself  had  never  read,  she  changed  the 
subject.  "  Would  you  care  to  see  some  other  changes  we've 
made  here  ?  " 

Lily  rose  with  alacrity  and  the  two,  with  Just  that  touch 
of  shyness  between  them,  were  presently  embarked  on  a  tour 
of  inspection.  Lily  did  not  like  to  tell  her  that  Jerry  had 
already  shown  it  to  her,  and  praised  and  commented  with 
tact.  But  she  was  quick  to  see  that  Jerry's  enthusiasm  far 
outshone  his  wife's  and  again  she  wondered  mightily. 

Indeed  Joan  had  done  little  that  first  week  save  soothe  her 
soul.  Drooping  day  by  day  of  nostalgia,  she  could  barely 
fight  through  with  a  brave  face.  She  had  not  even  spirit  to 
recognize  the  patent  possibilities  of  the  small  abode  where 
she  had  taken  up  reluctant  dictatorship.  The  reaction  from 
her  shock  was  like  convalescence  following  a  severe  acci- 
dent ;  it  could  not  be  forced. 

As  for  Jerry,  he  had  overcome  temptation  to  play  the 
potential  lover  the  first  morning  of  their  life  together.  That 
gray  day,  rising  from  his  bed  he  had  dosed  himself  relent- 
lessly with  the  realization  of  what  her  hours  must  have 
been.  The  room  where  she  lay,  with  its  gay  garnishings, 
would  smite  upon  her  with  painful  significance.     She  would 


232  BLIND  WISDOM 

lie  very  still  with  her  sunless  heart,  unable  to  obey  her  child- 
hood's impulse  to  change  the  bogey's  face  before  she  could 
look  upon  it.  Too  numb  to  move  nor  yet  strong  enough  to 
embrace  philosophy,  she  would  ponder  upon  the  appalling 
truth,  wild  with  pain  for  her  lost  love  and  in  her  tender  way 
suffering  also  for  Jerry.  In  his  wretchedness  he  shared 
something  of  her  inertia,  felt  life  stand  still  and  skip  a  beat 
in  one  of  those  curious  interludes  of  arrested  progress. 

Then  as  he  had  thrown  himself  down  the  night  before 
fully  clothed  he  undressed,  bathed  and  donned  fresh  linen 
with  stoic  inevitability.  The  matutinal  ceremony  completed 
he  quickened  to  fresh  hope,  though  still  his  heart  beat  peril- 
ous with  sympathy.  He  invaded  the  kitchen  and  urged  the 
janitor's  wife  to  supreme  effort  but  dissatisfied  with  the 
unsesthetic  bacon  and  eggs  maturing  in  the  pan  he  rushed 
forth  for  fruits  out  of  season  and  cut  flowers.  And  return- 
ing at  the  same  high  pitch  of  compassion  he  penned  a  note 
as  the  context  of  her  breakfast  tray : 

"Dear: — ^You  have  really  rested,  I  hope,  and  the  night 
has  given  you  courage  for  the  day !  Please  believe  in  spite 
of  everything  that  you  could  be  nowhere  so  safe  nor  so 
tenderly  cared  for  as  here.  Your  happiness  is  the  one  con- 
sideration from  now  on.  Will  you  help  me  to  succeed  in 
making  you  so  ?  As  they  say  in  business  dealings,  '  we  wel- 
come criticism ! '  As  it  was  in  the  beginning  I  am  now  and 
ever  shall  be, 

"  Your  '  old  Jerry.'  " 

But  just  when  this  elaborate  offering  was  about  to  be 
presented,  the  fruit,  the  flowers  and  the  passionate  assurance, 
Jerry  had  his  second  and  wiser  thought.  He  was  now 
setting  the  key-note  for  their  future  intercourse;  upon  his 
initial  interpretation  depended  her  serenity  of  mind  and  his 
own,  in  so  far  as  he  could  ever  feel  reconciled.  But  by  his 
very  assertion  that  all  was  as  in  former  days,  his  very  denial 


A  DIFFICULT  BEGINNING  233 

of  new  conditions  he  emphasized  the  presence  of  them.  In 
his  self-abnegation  he  set  up  a  poignant  love  plea.  Would 
she  not  be  in  greater  dismay  at  these  signs  of  the  unusual, 
the  ingratiating  tray  with  its  frantic  flowers  and  two-toned 
message  than  as  though  nothing  of  the  kind  had  been  at- 
tempted ?  He  knew  her  well  enough  to  know  that  she  would 
suffer  acutely  through  any  symptoms  of  sacrifice  on  his  part. 
He  perceived  that  the  finer  delicacy  would  be  to  establish 
her  confidence  through  an  absence  of  all  dramatic  gesture, 
a  matter-of-fact  reversal  to  the  old  friendly  footing. 

For  all  his  life  of  day-dreaming  the  virility  of  Jerry 
staggered  belief  in  that  he  could  conceive  and  carry  through 
so  mighty  a  task.  From  that  time  on  indeed  his  head  and 
shoulders  figuratively  pierced  the  clouds,  biceps  strained 
and  corded  with  effort!  In  the  kitchen  he  had  insisted 
against  the  obdurate  Mrs.  Flynn  in  glorifying  the  tray 
("  Spoilin'  her  to  begin  wid!"  that  Tartar  had  remarked 
sourly),  but  when  later  he  had  attacked  her  en  route  to 
Joan's  room  to  retract  the  flowers  and  the  note,  she  was 
equally  difficult  to  deal  with.  Then  having  received,  to  her 
mind,  some  fatuous  instruction  she  slammed  through  Joan's 
door  with  a  violence  calculated  to  waken  any  sleeping  beauty 
and  bring  her  summarily  to  cope  with  the  day.  Outside 
Jerry  spat  a  raw  "  Damn !  " 

"  Mr.  Callendar  is  afther  havin'  skimbled  eggs  for  his 
breakfast,"  she  announced  shortly,  setting  the  tray  down 
with  a  bang  and  perversely  misconstruing  the  bridegroom's 
message,  "  an'  he  thought  as  the  same  was  plenty  good 
enough  for  yerself." 

Joan,  making  allowance  for  translation,  managed  a  smile 
and  felt  a  little  warmth  creep  back  into  her  veins.  Jerry 
took  "  skimbled  eggs  "  for  breakfast  and  thought  that  she 
might  do  the  same !  Nothing  remotely  abnormal  in  that  an- 
nouncement and  she  who  had  dreaded  some  terribly  trying 


234  BLIND  WISDOM 

aftermath  of  last  evening's  crisis  breathed  the  first  sigh  of 
relief.  She  had  pictured  a  far  different  beginning,  her 
fevered  imagination  going  to  the  founts  of  literature  for 
substantiation.  Either  he  would  wring  her  heart  with  re- 
proaches or  would  waken  her  with  such  protective  brotherli- 
ness  as  would  have  been  unbearable.  As  she  stared  at  the 
tray  with  quick  tears  Mrs.  Flynn  added  literally : 

"  I'm  to  say  as  how  he's  off  on  business  till  the  afternoon 
an'  you  kin  be  givin'  me  anny  orders  ye  loike — widin  raison," 
she  added  on  her  own  inspiration. 

This  time  her  remark  was  greeted  by  the  sweetest  soimd 
of  merriment. 

"  What  you've  just  said,"  Joan  rallied  momentarily,  "  goes 
both  ways.  Hitherto  you've  had  only  Mr.  Callendar  to 
command  and  now  you  have  us  both.  The  only  difference 
is  that  I  could,  on  a  pinch,  cook  my  meals  and  therefore  I'm 
independent." 

Mrs.  Flynn  expressed  herself  by  shooting  up  the  curtain 
and  letting  the  inquisitive  sun  into  the  girl's  sleepy  eyes. 

"  Ye  don't  look,"  she  observed  with  perspicacity,  "  loike 
ye're  afther  skimblin'  an  egg  in  yer  loife." 

"  Never  you  mind,'*  cried  her  new  mistress  with  asperity. 
"  Should  the  occasion  arise  I'll  wager  I  could  out-skimble 
you  to  nothing !  " 

But  when  the  woman  had  withdrawn  Joan's  flare  of  hu- 
mor died.  It  was  but  nine  o'clock  of  the  first  morning  of 
the  first  year,  and  from  now  on  hers  would  be  a  waiting 
role.  Pushing  the  tray  from  her  she  turned  deliberately 
and  put  her  face  in  the  pillow.  There  was  nothing  to  do 
but  sleep. 

Nevertheless  when  custom  became  established  Joan  and 
Jerry,  through  well-bred  mutual  consideration,  were  doing 
tolerably  well.  They  came  and  went  bravely  together  and 
their  efforts  at  naturalness  proved  sedative  to  thought.    But 


A  DIFFICULT  BEGINNING  235 

now  and  then  he  would  find  her  terribly  questioning  eyes 
upon  him  as  though  with  her  very  soul  she  weighed  the 
sincerity  of  his  attitude,  as  though  should  he  be  proven  a 
sham  her  own  stamina  must  crumble.  The  truth  startled 
them  both  at  times  and  set  its  imprint  on  their  faces.  But 
not  once  did  she  mention  Ballou  during  those  first  days  and 
Jerry  had  almost  come  to  believe  that  she  was  reaching  some 
kinder  plane  of  submission  when,  like  a  bolt  from  the  blue, 
fell  her  ultimatum. 

It  was  evening  and  they  were  spending  it  at  home  by 
common  consent  when  he  had  warning  of  some  atmospheric 
disturbance. 

"  Jerry ! "  she  summoned  him  to  attention  and  her  eyes 
were  alive  in  her  face  like  twin  stars.  During  the  pause 
which  followed  he  returned  her  challenging  gaze  and  their 
spiritual  passage-at-arms  seemed  to  stretch  the  interval  into 
eternity.  "  Jerry,  I  have  made  up  my  mind, — I  will  stay 
with  you  only  on  one  condition — that  you  let  me  see  Bret 
and  tell  him  the  truth ! " 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
A  CONTRACT 

There  are  times  when  the  plot  of  life  with  its  discouraging 
developments,  its  reiterations  and  seemingly  footless  design, 
impresses  one  as  amazingly  bad.  What  manner  of  tale  is 
this,  asked  the  outraged  mind,  the  creation  of  what  inscru- 
table God  ?  Is  it  worth  pursuing  farther  ?  Jerry  had  had  a 
bad  day,  one  of  the  sort  when  the  rent  and  other  obligations 
fall  due,  when  the  pipes  spring  a  leak,  the  single  servant 
is  stricken  with  lumbago  and  boresome  cousins  from  Peoria, 
Illinois,  turn  up  in  town  and  command  entertainment.  Dur- 
ing the  afternoon  he  had  sustained  that  injury  of  the 
imagination — a  lost  idea!  It  had  come  to  him  radiantly 
midway  between  the  telephone  message  from  the  cousins 
and  the  settlement  with  the  plumber,  but  immediately  he 
had  returned  to  his  desk  from  the  latter  it  was  nowhere  to 
be  found  and  though  he  searched  for  it  under  all  his  other 
thoughts  it  remained  elusive.  And  here  in  the  soft-slipper 
end  of  the  day  was  Joan  delivering  her  ultimatum ! 

Joan,  immersed  in  her  own  longing,  could  not  know  his 
inner  protest.  The  cherished  pipe,  sharing  his  depression, 
forgot  to  emit  whirls  of  smoke.  At  last  he  spoke  con- 
trolledly : 

"  I  can't  refuse  you.  On  the  other  hand  I  can't  let  you  be 
the  medium  for  our  understanding,  his  and  mine." 

"  But  Jerry,"  she  protested  quickly,  "  think  how  ghastly 
for  all  three  of  us  to  be  closeted  together  in  a  triangle  effect. 
I  should  feel  like  the  heroine  of  a  third-rate  play.  Must 
vfe — must  we  make  it  so  cheap?" 


A  CONTRACT  237 

Jerry  stared  at  the  ruddy  logs  in  the  chimney  place  and 
one  little  windy  flame  of  blue  that  was  behaving  oddly, 
incidentally  at  her  Cinderella  slippers  resting  on  the  fender. 

"  What  you  say  may  be  true.  On  the  other  hand,  I  can- 
not see  myself  retiring  like  a  spineless  gladiator  while  you 
entertain  the  lion.  I've  a  message  for  him  which  I  prefer 
to  deliver  myself." 

"  You're  angry  again." 

"  Not  angry  but  in  earnest." 

"  But  I  have  a  right,"  she  began  again  feverishly.  "  I 
must  tell  him  how  it  all  came  about  and  that  we  aren't  neces- 
sarily parted  forever.    You  can't  deny  this  right." 

"  I'm  not  denying  that  right.  I  only  claim  the  prologue 
of  the  piece." 

She  clutched  his  arm  with  eager  fingers  for  all  the  world 
like  a  child  imploring  a  sweetmeat. 

"  But,  Jerry,  you  won't  go  back  on  your  promise  to  me 
that  in  time  if — if — I  shall  be  free    .    .     ." 

The  firelight  exploited  their  faces,  the  one  so  brightly  im- 
patient, the  other  so  weary  and  controlled.  Suddenly  she 
relented,  dropping  her  head  with  its  soft  tangle  of  hair, 
down  on  the  chair-arm  and  weeping  passionately. 

"  It's  God  that's  to  blame,"  she  rebelled.  "  He's  cruel  to 
make  me  cruel  to  you." 

Jerry  cast  a  long  glance,  half  sorrowing,  half  whimsical 
upon  that  ruffled  head  and  shook  his  own.  He  quoted  un- 
der his  breath : 

" '  For  all  His  mercies  God  be  thanked,  but  for  His 
tyrannies  be  blamed.'  "  Aloud  he  said,  "  Remember,  '  there 
are  two  tragedies  in  life,  Joan,  not  getting  what  you  want, 
and  getting  It,'  I'm  trying  to  save  you  from  the  sting  of 
one  and  the  satiety  of  the  other." 


238  BLIND  WISDOM 

It  was  evening  when  Bret  Ballou  came  in  answer  to  Joan's 
request.  Her  note  had  been  of  inscrutable  brevity :  she  had 
told  him  that  she  must  see  him  and  added  that  her  husband 
permitted  the  call,  though  she  did  not  tell  him  that  Jerry 
would  be  on  hand  for  it.  Bret,  still  quivering  from  the 
shock  of  her  marriage,  had  hesitated  a  long  time  before 
making  a  decision.  His  pride  was  intolerably  hurt  and  his 
acquisitiveness  rudely  jolted.  Also,  knowing  her  to  be  the 
legal  property  of  another  man,  she  had  at  last  taken  on 
supreme  value  in  his  eyes. 

"  No,  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  will ! "  he  ruminated  with  tears 
of  vexation  in  his  eyes.  "  She'll  find  I've  ceased  to  be  hers 
to  command.    A  married  woman's  lap-dog,  never ! " 

For  in  Bret's  prescribed  circle  that  sort  of  thing  was  for- 
ever happening  and  was  all  too  obvious.  Immediately  a 
certain  type  of  girl  had  married  she  beckoned  back  her 
favorite  suitor  and  with  exquisite  tyranny  caj oiled  him  into 
continuing  her  adorer.  The  ethics  of  such  a  proceeding  did 
not  bother  Bret  but  he  had  a  certain  contempt  for  the  sort  of 
man  who  would  allow  himself  to  be  "  short-changed,"  so  to 
speak.  But  the  longer  he  considered  the  more  he  became 
persuaded  that  in  such  an  interview  as  Joan  suggested  he 
would  be  certain  to  come  off  the  victor,  and  his  self-love 
craved  the  opportunity  of  punishing  her.  The  result  of 
this  long  conflict  was  that  promptly  at  eight  o'clock  next 
evening  he  stood  at  the  Callendars'  door. 

Great,  then,  was  his  surprise  and  discomfort,  when  Cal- 
lendar,  in  person,  opened  it!  They  had  met  but  once  be- 
fore in  Agnes  Blunt's  drawing-room  and  into  the  mind  of 
each  leapt  the  remembrance  of  that  single  encounter,  Joan 
between  them  with  her  sweetly  anxious  glance  weaving 
from  one  to  the  other,  beseeching  friendship  but  provoking 
instead  an  immediate  faint  rivalry!  What  right  had  Cal- 
lendar  to  be  meeting  him  when  it  was  tacitly  agreed  that  this 


A  CONTRACT  239 

post-mortem  belonged  to  Joan  and  Bret !  What  deplorable 
lack  of  taste !  Ballou  stiffened  and  into  his  smooth-shaven 
face  flooded  the  color  of  embarrassment.  Instead  of  a 
fawning  girl  he  now  faced  the  respectable  vandal  who  had 
kidnapped  her,  a  chap  in  battle-gray  with  a  politeness  as 
smooth  and  unpliable  as  steel.  It  was  a  pity  that  they  could 
not  have  said  the  primitive  things  they  longed  to  say,  with- 
out preliminaries,  or  polish.  Instead  each  was  obliged  to 
suffer  the  handicap  that  breeding  lay  upon  him,  to  fight 
indirectly  and  with  restraint. 

"  Won't  you  come  in  ?  "  asked  Jerry  Callendar  for  the 
second  time. 

Ballou,  pink  to  the  ears,  stood  his  ground  stoutly. 

"  I  wish  to  see  Mrs.  Callendar.     She  is  expecting  me !  '* 

Jerry  only  inclined  his  head  and  there  was  no  course  open 
to  Bret  save  following  him  into  the  big,  softly-dim  room 
which  formed  the  main  bulk  of  the  apartment.  It  was  not 
a  luxurious  room  but  it  had  a  certain  indefinable  air  of 
charm.  A  fire  communed  with  itself  in  the  chimney  place 
and  two  chairs  were  drawn  near,  the  inference  of  which 
did  not  escape  the  caller.  His  overwrought  imagination 
conjured  Joan  and  this  quietly  conquering  husband  of  hers 
discussing  the  prospective  arrival,  amusing  themselves  at 
his  expense.  ...  It  was  infamous  if  she  did  not  ap- 
pear at  all. 

"  I  too  expect  you,"  said  the  voice  behind  him  with 
sinister  pleasantry. 

Bret  turned  sharply,  trembling  like  a  boy  before  an  tm- 
deserved  chastisement. 

"  But  I  understood  from  her  note  that  I  was  to  see 
Joan " 

"  Please  take  a  chair." 

" — And  I  have  no  wish  nor  intention  of  being  interviewed 
by  any  one  else." 


240  BLIND  WISDOM 

"  That  is  unfortunate,"  said  Jerry  Callendar,  "  because  I 
am  very  anxious  to  talk  to  you." 

His  eyes  held  gravely  in  the  other's.  Bret  was  annoyed 
with  himself  for  feeling  impressed. 

"Of  myself?" 

*'  N-no,  I  think  you  must  know  yourself  better  than  I. 
Of  Mrs.  Callendar." 

Ballou  was  rubbing  his  hands  before  the  blaze,  striving 
to  collect  his  wits,  to  decide  upon  a  proper  pose  to  adopt. 
He  was  furious  at  his  own  disadvantage.  Jerry,  studying 
him  covertly,  was  thinking, "  Great  Scott,  he's  a  mere  young- 
ster for  all  his  sophistication.  He  must  have  gotten  an 
early  start  at  living." 

"  I  wouldn't  have  come,"  Bret  wheeled  about  in  semi- 
apology,  "  if  she  hadn't  sent  for  me.  I  knew  of  course  that 
she  was  married  and  I'm  not  in  the  habit  of  calling  upon 
brides.  I  went  to  the  Blunts'  house  the  other  evening  ex- 
pecting to  receive  news  of  Joan  Wister  and  learned  instead 
that  she  had  changed  her  name.  I'll  swear  Blunt  took 
malicious  pleasure  in  breaking  the  news  to  me,  although  if 
he'd  done  me  justice  he'd  have  known  I  was  sincere  in  lik- 
ing her."  He  shrugged  his  shoulders  expressively.  "  I 
don't  know  why  Joan  took  this  sudden  step  and  the  reason 
doesn't  matter  particularly  now,  but  she  sent  for  me  and, 
well,  here  I  am !    What's  the  big  idea  ?  " 

As  though  this  summary  had  exhausted  his  stock  in  trade 
of  strength  he  subsided  in  one  of  the  chairs  and  stretched 
forth  his  long  legs  wearily.  Seeing  him,  as  it  were,  frankly 
hors  de  combat,  Jerry  could  not  restrain  a  smile. 

"  It  appears,  Mr.  Ballou,  that  you're  not  feeling  par- 
ticularly fit  this  evening.  May  I  offer  you  some  coffee  or 
a  liqueur?" 

"  You're  right,  I'm  not  up  to  foiTn  I "  Bret's  smile  was 
feeble,  "  but  I  don't  think  a  drink  could  do  anything  for  me. 


A  CONTRACT  241 

I  may  as  well  warn  you  now  I'm  in  no  mood  to  be  taken 
to  task,  even  if  fortified  beforehand.  I  haven't  injured  you, 
you  know ! " 

Jerry  ministered  to  the  fire.    His  face  betrayed  nothing. 

"  Meaning  perhaps  that  I  have  injured  you!  How  do  you 
arrive  at  that  interesting  conclusion  ?  " 

"  Joan,"  explained  Bret  with  the  weariness  of  a  logician 
dealing  with  idiots,  "  was  engaged  to  me.  And  when  I 
turned  my  back  for  five  minutes  you  married  her.  All  of 
which  makes  me  love  you,"  he  added  with  elaborate  honesty. 

He  made  a  wiy  face.    Jerry  laughed  composedly. 

"  Oh,  no,  I  didn't  marry  her.     We  married  each  other." 

He  sank  into  the  companion  chair  to  Bret's  beneath  Joan's 
blue  lamp  with  its  benevolent  broad  shade.  This  lamp  shed 
an  interesting  light  upon  both  men,  especially  upon  the  in- 
dividual modelling  of  their  heads,  Bret's  low-browed  and 
impetuous,  shaped  by  nature  with  loving  exactitude,  Jerry's 
somewhat  studentish  in  character  with  the  mellow  force  of 
the  thinker's,  and  the  radiance  of  the  man  who  colors  his 
own  dreams. 

"  Dear  me,"  drawled  Jerry  ironically,  "  you  say  that  Joan 
was  engaged  to  you  while  your  wife  was  yet  living.  Isn't 
that  a  rather  remarkable  statement?  It  reminds  me  of  the 
saying  that  it's  permissible  to  steal  another  man's  wife  but 
never  his  sweetheart — I  use  the  word  in  its  harmless  sense. 
Under  the  circumstances  the  er — engagement  between  you 
was  not  very  binding.  But  of  course,"  he  conceded  mis- 
chievously, "  it's  all  in  the  point  of  view." 

Bret,  scenting  sarcasm,  flushed  again  heavily  but  not  find- 
ing an  answer  within  hand's  reach  he  let  it  go  and  contented 
himself  with  scratching  an  angry  match  on  the  floor.  He 
half-heartedly  offered  his  cigarette  case,  but  as  Jerry  re- 
fused, hunched  himself  low  like  an  old  man  and  inhaled 
hungrily. 


342 


BUMD  WEDOM 


Witt?   Yam 


lorbe- 


■y 


bSkm,  for  fnaB 
I  eiOen^  <hat  it 
tiewasflotftDbe 

OttDSB 


Bat 


A?    Tlot 


J«rr 


aloL 


t9of  1» 


vaiat- 


A  COHTKACr 


^U 


BrTs* 


rafeoC 


Ihe 


Bvct  sH  fai 
it  ooonren  Id  !■■  to  sdd 
"ArejQBflilDic^nlbkrrtDO?    Gi4,«i 


TOB 


I?   T«a 


AM 


PBN;  ntradlee 


n 


to  be 


-1^ 


Ofc.  I 


'  Look-ft-lKV^ 

heart  ooWa%e 

hiwAid  dhfC  tAieC    Soe  if  it  dkicsift 

lonpc  Jtcgjtly.* 

•DC  OOn  SCOTDOOp  nWOH^E,  OOI^  «D  OHH  ohK  ICO^ 

I  odoHt  ^lolwvps  caarai  far  Inr  loft  Ac  isto  ot 

tiQoUe  dbaoft  JOB  CMoe  i^L    Miiflhu  of 

vises  bDBCSS  OBb 


fed 


244  BLIND  WISDOM 

till  after  our  wedding.  Then,  through  the  reaction  upon 
Joan  I  understood — I  understood " 

He  swallowed  hard,  his  face  betraying  the  ravages  of 
secret  grief. 

" — I  understood  that  you  still  had  a  hold  over  her." 

"  That  I  had  still "     Bret  was  gripping  him  by  the 

shoulders,  stammering  excitedly  in  his  joy.  "  S-say  that 
again,  will  you  ?  You  don't  mean  that  you  asked  me  here  to 
tell  me  that?  Then,  why  couldn't  you  have  said  so  in  the 
start  ?    Great  God,  man,  it's  too  good  to  be  true." 

He  stood  back  from  Jerry  to  digest  the  morsel  and  though 
he  had  but  a  slight  advantage  in  height  he  seemed  to  tower. 
He  regarded  the  other  with  round-eyed  amazement,  with  a 
new  tolerance  and  liking,  though  what  he  had  just  done 
seemed  to  him  the  most  improbable  thing  on  earth.  He  was 
simply  incapable  of  understanding  it. 

"  By  Jove,  I  certainly  beg  your  pardon  for  what  I've  said 
to  you.  Not  one  chap  in  a  thousand  would  come  out  hon- 
estly and  admit  what  you've  admitted.  You're  sure  enough 
a  prince,  Callendar,  and  I  want  to  shake  your  hand."  He 
wrung  that  member  hard.  "  Then  I  am  to  see  Twinkletoes 
after  all,  and  she  did  mean  what  she  said  in  the  note.  I'd 
begun  to  think  it  was  some  beastly  kind  of  trick  you  were 
both  playing  on  me.  But  I  might  have  known  she  wouldn't 
change  in  such  a  short  space  of  time.  Well,  old  man,  it's 
my  turn  to  offer  condolence !  " 

He  was  fairly  rollicking  in  his  relief. 

"  Thanks,"  said  Jerry  drily,  "  but  you  mustn't  forget  that 
this  child  is  my  wife  and  immeasurably  dear  to  me.  I  have 
no  intention  of  letting  her  go  till  I  am  convinced  she  goes  to 
greater  happiness  than  I  can  give  her." 

"  Of  course,  of  course,  and  I  don't  say  that  I'm  not  sorry 
for  you,"  said  Bret  naively,  "  but  you  must  grant  that  mine 
is  the  prior  claim.    Because  we  were  sweethearts  from  the 


A  CONTRACT  245 

first  moment  we  saw  each  other  and  because  she  still  recog- 
nizes that  bond  between  us.  You've  proven  that  you're  a 
broad-minded  man,  Callendar,  and  I  know  you  won't  keep 
a  wild  thing  in  captivity." 

But  Jerry  had  felt  a  touch  of  frost. 

"  That  might  be  better  than  casting  it  out  to  an  unknown 
fate." 

"  But  you  say  yourself,"  argued  Bret  triumphantly,  "  that 
you  haven't  been  able  to  win  her  over.  If  there'd  been  the 
slightest  chance  of  it  you  wouldn't  have  shown  your  hand 
so  early  in  the  game.     What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

Jerry  looked  at  him  with  dull  eyes. 

"  Do  ?  Nothing.  Time's  got  to  do  it.  We  can't  meddle, 
we  can't  coerce  her  into  anything,  one  way  or  the  other. 
You  don't  appreciate  the  tender  plant  we  have  to  deal  with. 
You  haven't  watched  the  marvellous  delicate  growth  of  that 
wholly  beautiful  individual.  I  won't  claim  that  I'm  the 
only  man  capable  of  doing  so  but  I  will  say  that  I'm  the  only 
man  who  has." 

They  were  still  and  the  sounds  of  the  city  came  up  to 
them  in  the  quiet  room,  life  moving  steadily  on,  regard- 
less of  individual  crises.  As  though  he  felt  his  own  isola- 
tion, Jerry  went  to  the  window  and  stood  brooding  upon 
the  street  where  a  slow  rain  fell.  Below  a  pretentious  motor 
car  was  drawn  to  the  curb  with  a  cozy  air  of  sufficiency, 
Bret's,  of  course,  and  just  such  a  toy  as  he  would  soon  have 
been  lavishing  upon  Joan  had  Joan  not  married  Jerry  on  the 
day  she  did.  Certainly  fate  was  never  hackneyed  in  her  ex- 
pression. With  weary  curiosity  he  concentrated  upon  the 
book  dealer  across  the  way  who  was  putting  in  place  his 
shutters  for  the  night.  What  events  had  the  day  clicked. off 
for  him?  A  fruit  vendor,  relieved  of  half  his  wares, 
trundled  his  clumsy  cart  westward,  a  lonely  figure  bound 
for  a  lonely  destination.    Who  knew  or  cared  where  the 


246  BLIND  WISDOM 

fellow  would  sleep  ?  In  an  apartment  above  some  one  was 
playing  a  silly  song  on  a  victrola.  The  nasal  voice  waa 
irrepressible. 

"  I  love  my  little  lovin'  man,  both  in  an'  out  o'  seas-on    .    .    . 
Oh,  if  he  killed  his  gran'moth-er 
I'd  know  he  had  a  reas-on! " 

Jerry  smiled  grimly  to  himself.  "  Life  no  more  ceases  to 
be  serious  when  people  laugh  than  it  ceases  to  be  funny  when 
people  die."  He  repeated  that  philosophy  and  it  steadied 
him.  During  his  brief  respite  he  had  locked  pain,  jealousy 
and  wounded  pride  deep  in  some  sub-cellar  of  his  soul. 
Bret  was  still  standing  with  a  curious  admixture  of  sup- 
plication and  bulldog  tenacity. 

"  If  at  the  end  of  six  months  she  still  desires  to  come  to 
me  will  you  release  her?  Would  six  months  satisfy  you 
that  she  really  cares  ?  " 

Jerry  shook  his  head. 

"  Six  months  would  not  satisfy  me  and  neither  would  it 
satisfy  Dame  Grundy.  That  poor  woman,  your  wife,  is 
entitled  to  a  little  respect.  Remember,  now  that  she  has 
lost  her  life  she  has  regained  her  soul.  Surely  you  can 
afford  to  wait.    Joan  is  young  yet " 

"But  you  will  let  us  meet,"  said  Ballou  a  bit  shame- 
facedly.   "You're  such  a  good  fellow." 

Jerry  protested  the  patronage. 

"  I'm  not  a  good  fellow.  I  refuse  absolutely.  But  I  do 
say  that  if  at  the  end  of  a  year  she  still  wishes  it " 

A  muscle  was  twitching  intermittently  in  the  shadow  of 
Bret's  cheek. 

"  Callendar,"  he  said  hoarsely  and  his  anxiety  was  acute, 
"  if  I  promise  to  stay  away  from  her  will  you  promise  me 
not  to  make  love  to  her,  not  to  play  on  her  sympathies  or — 
or  touch  her  till  the  year  is  up^  " 


A  CONTRACT  247 

Jerry  looked  at  him  coldly. 

"  If  you  must  be  so  literal,  I'll  save  her — ^not  for  you — 
but  because  she  is  her  own  to  bestow  in  the  end.  That's  our 
contract,  signed  and  sealed,  but  remember,  once  you  break 
your  half  of  it  mine  will  not  hold.  If  you  like  you  may 
see  her  now." 

He  turned  and  without  another  word  climbed  the  studio 
stair.  Bret  heard  him  speak  to  Joan,  then  enter  his  own 
room  and  close  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

CLAIRE  CONFESSES 

Mrs.  Wister's  house  of  "  paying  guests  "  so  exactly  con- 
formed to  the  traditions  of  old  Crannsford  that  she  was 
very  soon  conscious  of  no  incongruity.  It  would  be  gross  ex- 
aggeration to  state  that  she  felt  herself  in  the  same  enviable 
position  she  had  once  occupied,  but  she  did  feel,  not  with- 
out justification,  that  to  the  new  arrangement  she  had 
brought  an  impression  of  permanency.  The  somewhat 
crotchety  and  moneyed  old  ladies  who  now  occupied  the  vast 
chambers  on  the  second  floor  enjoyed  to  the  utmost  the  re- 
finements of  attention  they  received.  They  felt  them- 
selves immensely  far-sighted  to  have  become  installed  at 
once,  since  no  vulgar  crowding  was  encouraged,  and  now, 
it  being  a  matter  of  popular  aspiration  to  live  with  Mrs. 
Wister,  a  long  waiting  list  had  been  subscribed.  Not  that 
there  was  much  chance  of  a  vacancy  for  some  time,  the 
ladies  being,  as  Claire  put  it,  "all  nicely  tucked  in  until 
death,**  and  at  last  so  comfortable  that  the  period  might  be 
extended  indefinitely.  Some  of  them  had  lap  dogs  and 
some  |)arrots  or  canary  birds,  which  they  discussed  at  table 
with  all  the  gusto  of  superannuated  mothers.  One  had  only 
quantities  of  old-fashioned  jewelry  to  be  hidden  each  night 
in  a  stocking  between  the  mattresses.  And  one  had  a  very 
tiresome  will,  with  clauses  and  ramifications  which  she  was 
forever  changing.  But  all  paid  handsomely  for  the  earthly 
comforts  that  their  aristocratic  proprietress  knew  how  to 
provide. 

"Putting  the  old  girls  to  bed?"  Oaire  would  titter  to 


CLAIRE  CONFESSES  249 

Ellen  when  the  two  would  meet  at  nine-thirty  in  the  upper 
hall,  Ellen  carrying  an  armful  of  hot-water  bottles,  and 
Ellen  would  answer,  mischievously : 

"  Sure,  Miss  Claire,  an'  I  know  now  where  ivery  pain  is 
located." 

Callers  served  merely  to  stimulate  the  inmates'  self-satis- 
faction. Great  airs  were  apt  to  be  worn  at  such  times,  with 
talk  of  the  dead  and  gone  splendor  of  the  Morrow  family, 
even  some  respectful  allusion  to  Jonathan  Wister.  "  That 
is  his  study,  you  know,  everything  kept  exactly  as  he  left 
it  for  sentiment's  sake." 

In  the  career  of  high-priestess  to  her  household,  Mrs, 
Wister  had  small  time  for  regrets  or  recriminations.  She 
must  concede  no  hint  of  fatigue,  she  must  remember  ever 
to  be  the  great  lady.  But  ofttimes  at  night,  when  she  could 
remove  her  mask  with  impunity,  she  brooded  upon  the 
lives  of  her  children,  each  shaping  so  differently  from  what 
she  had  fondly  intended.  Joan  had  written  a  carefully 
cheerful  letter,  praising  the  studio-apartment  in  Eighth 
Street,  and  in  the  same  forced  tenor  giving  due  credit  to 
Jerry  and  all  that  concerned  him.  But  Mrs.  Wister  closed 
the  letter  with  a  film  before  her  eyes,  for  Joan  was  the 
youngest  and  tenderest  of  them  all.  "  Nothing  but  trouble 
could  ever  have  reconciled  me  to  the  marriage,"  she  thought. 
"  Temperamental  men  are  such  bad  providers !  " 

Between  Claire  and  her  a  curious  truce  existed.  Claire 
had  remained  obediently  at  home  save  for  that  brief  stay  in 
town  when  they  had  gone  up  for  Joan's  wedding.  She  was 
resourceful  and  efficient  in  helping  her  mother  with  all  the 
tiresome  details  that  must  go  on  behind  the  scenes,  since  an 
apparent  lack  of  effort  was  the  secret  of  their  success. 
Their  guests  really  did  seem  to  be  in  the  position  that  the 
word  implies ;  there  was  no  such  thing  as  weekly  or  monthly 
settlements;  Mrs.  Wister  instituted  a  system  by  which  they 


250  BLIND  WISDOM 

paid  yearly  a  lump  sum.  In  the  meantime  each  was  as  free 
of  restrictions  or  disagreeable  reminders  as  though  the 
house  that  she  enjoyed  were  her  own. 

Claire,  for  all  her  stoicism,  was,  of  course,  bored  by  the 
new  regime  and  lived  with  an  isolated  spirit,  nursing  the 
fact  of  secret  consolations.  She  loved  her  mother  sincerely, 
but,  although  she  believed  that  in  her  father's  last  hours 
Mrs.  Wister  had  seen  the  light,  she  did  not  believe  her  suf- 
ficiently changed  to  accept  with  equanimity  the  knowledge 
that  must  one  day  come  to  her.  It  was  remarked  by  the 
eagle-eyed  that  several  times  during  those  first  six  weeks 
Claire  was  to  be  seen  mounting  the  steps  of  Mrs.  Corn- 
wall's house  in  Elm  Street.  Had  further  penetration  been 
possible  the  watchful  one  might  have  remarked  Sadie  Corn- 
wall descending  in  a  flutter  of  excitement  to  greet  her  caller, 
effusive  in  an  aura  of  violet  perfume. 

In  the  old  days  Claire's  merry  nose  had  been  wont  to  turn 
up  with  good-natured  intolerance  of  the  Comwalls  and  their 
suspender  factory,  not  so  much  because  of  the  origin  of  the 
fortime  as  because  of  Sadie's  meretricious  ways  of  spend- 
ing it.  But  now,  among  the  gilt  chairs,  the  gewgaws  and 
red  plush,  her  hungry  heart  conceived  a  fondness  for  the 
poor,  fussy,  well-intentioned  woman  who  was  kin  to 
Ridgely.  At  each  visit,  though  nothing  definite  was  re- 
vealed by  Qaire,  Mrs.  Cornwall  would  bring  forth  her  vari- 
ous photographs  of  the  young  actor  and  they  would  discuss 
him  over  the  teacups. 

And  one  day,  with  a  superlative  impulse  that  she  could 
not  analyze,  she  said,  "  Here,  Claire,  take  them  all ! "  It 
was  really  a  more  generous  gift  than  may  appear  on  the 
surface,  for  those  highly  picturesque  portraits  were  Sadie's 
most  cherished  possessions  and  chief  stock  in  trade.  With- 
out them  she  might  never  be  able  to  entertain  again;  she 
would  be  almost  as  helpless  as  Samson  without  his  hair. 


CLAIRE  CONFESSES  251 

After  Oaire  had  gone  she  did,  in  fact,  nearly  regret  her 
action.  "  Can  I  be  mistaken  ?  "  she  thought,  and  then,  with 
unexpected  sagesse,  "  No,  she  certainly  loves  him.  If  a 
woman  can't  trust  her  own  intuition,  she  might  just  as  well 
be  a  man." 

The  very  next  day  quite  unexpectedly  Ridgely  came  down 
from  town.  That  night  Mrs.  Wister,  who  had  outlasted 
her  "  paying  guests  "  till  the  dizzy  hour  of  ten,  stepped  out 
upon  the  porch  for  a  breath  of  the  night.  It  was  early 
April  and  in  the  garden  moonlight  mingled  with  the  scents 
of  mellowing  earth  and  picked  out  the  fine  blue  ribbon  mists 
hovering  just  above  the  ground.  In  the  air  was  the  feeling 
of  tenderness  and  youth;  the  very  trees,  awaiting  an  im- 
maculate conception  of  leaves,  stood  slender  and  virginal 
with  a  trusting  simplicity.  For  some  unknown  reason  she 
thought  of  her  first  days  of  marriage  when  she  and  Jona- 
than came  into  the  big,  ornately  pretentious  house,  and  re- 
membered his  rough  yet  shy  lovering  and  her  eternal  re- 
treat. Why,  oh,  why  had  she  been  unable  to  respond  to  his 
rude  but  genuine  love  for  her?  Was  it  not,  after  all,  a 
mistake  that  her  upbringing  had  caused  her  to  undervalue 
just  such  native  virtues  as  he  possessed?  At  that  moment 
she  would  have  given  her  life  for  one  day  of  it  to  live  over. 
The  wistful  urge  caused  her  heart  to  beat  rather  fast. 

As  she  stood  in  pensive  attitude  beside  the  rail,  she  was 
arrested  by  a  movement  in  the  garden;  the  thick  rhodo- 
dendron bushes  stirred  as  though  some  person  or  thing  had 
brushed  gently  against  them.  Then,  sure  enough,  a  dim 
way  off  two  figures  materialized,  walking  with  their  arms 
about  one  another. 

They  were  as  abstract  and  as  still  as  phantoms,  moving 
under  that  April  moon,  and  she  could  almost  believe  that 
her  eyes  had  tricked  her.  Eliza,  of  course,  the  kitchen  girl, 
and  her  yoimg  man,  she  runmiaged  for  an  explanation. 


252  BLIND  WISDOM 

After  a  time,  subtly  softened,  Jenny  Wister  reentered  the 
house,  bolting  the  heavy  door  behind  her.  As  she  ascended 
the  stair,  she  saw  through  the  crack  of  the  casement  a  light 
in  Claire's  room.  Claire  was  not  happy,  poor  child,  and  her 
mother  regretted  that  she  had  been  obliged  to  exercise  her 
authority  in  the  matter  of  that  young  actor,  but  when  one 
was  Claire's  age  to  forget  was  not  impossible.  She  con- 
gratulated herself,  from  the  submissive  attitude  which  the 
girl  had  assumed  of  late,  that  she  would  be  thoroughly 
tractable.  But  it  might  be  well  to  reward  her  with  a  full 
measure  of  affection,  driving  home  the  paradox  of  mothers 
that  punishment  is  akin  to  love!  In  this  spirit  of  elderly 
patronage  she  recognized  no  inconsistency.  She  forgot  that 
she  had  but  recently  sighed  her  heart  away  for  the  loveless 
life  she  had  led. 

She  pushed  open  the  door  very  tenderly,  then  stood 
stock-still  on  the  threshold  as  though  she  had  indeed  taken 
root  there.  Claire  was  on  her  knees  before  an  open  travel- 
ling bag,  her  vigorous  bright  hair  in  disorder,  and  all  about 
her  in  the  room  closets  and  drawers  disgorging  feminine 
apparel.  The  face  that  she  returned  her  mother  was  as 
pale  as  Mrs.  Wister's  own,  but  wore  a  look  of  superhuman 
strength  and  resolution.  She  was  like  a  hunted  creature 
that  will  fight  to  the  death.  A  minute  held  between  them, 
full  to  the  brim  of  dramatic  suspense.  Then  Mrs.  Wister, 
grown  old  in  sudden  wisdom,  spoke  simply  the  words : 

"  You  are  going  to  him."  And  after  a  little,  cruel  with 
agony,  seeking  any  weapon  to  wound  the  child  she  loved, 
"He  is  your  lover." 

Then  the  proud  blood  came  mantling  into  Claire's  face 
till  she  was  like  some  exquisite  outraged  rose.  Her  lips 
parted  quivering,  to  shape  themselves  about  the  new  and 
wonderful  truth,  "  My  husband." 

"  It  can't  be,  it  can't  be."    The  world  was  crashing  about 


CLAIRE  CONFESSES  253 

Jenny's  ears.  Without  being  at  all  conscious  of  her  action 
she  entered  and  found  a  chair  to  support  her  in  the  shock. 
"  It  can't  be,"  she  kept  repeating  dully.  "  You  have  not 
left  me  for  a  minute,  and  surely  here  in  Crannsford  you 
could  not  have  been  married  without  my  knowledge,  unless 
that  hateful  Sadie  Cornwall " 

"  Sadie  Cornwall  had  nothing  to  do  with  it." 

"  Then  who— when ?  " 

'*  You  forget  New  York,"  Claire  reminded  her,  quietly, 
"  Joan's  wedding.     At  the  same  time  I " 

"And  you  mean  that  all  this  tune  you  have  lived  at  home 
without  seeing  him  ?  " 

Claire  nodded  sadly. 

"  I  couldn't  leave  you  to  start  over  all  by  yourself, 
Mother.  I  told  Ridgely  that  it  was  impossible,  but  to  make 
sure  of  me,  of  each  other,  you  know,  we " 

"Yes,  yes,  I  see."  Mrs.  Wister's  thin  white  fingers 
covered  her  face.  "  It  is  all  turning  out  so  differently,  so 
differently  from  what  I  had  dreamed  and  intended.  My 
life  has  been  futile,  my  standards  lowered.  I  neither  know 
myself  nor  my  children.  One  to  wed  a  playwright,  and  an- 
other an  actor!    What  would  my  father  have  said?" 

Claire  had  not  moved  from  the  floor,  but  she  seemed  to 
tower. 

"  I  have  no  idea  what  Grandfather  Morrow  would  have 
said,  but  my  own  father  would  have  given  his  blessing; 
and,  after  all,  Father  was  superior  to  any  of  them, — 'he 
was  the  beginning  of  his  house,  not  the  end.'  '* 

Mrs.  Wister  hung  inertly  in  the  chair. 

"  To  think  that  I  don't  even  know  him — your  husband !  " 

"Ah,  Mother,  whose  fault  is  that?" 

"And  he  may  eat  with  his  knife  for  all  I  can  tell." 

A  soft  little  laugh  escaped  Claire.  Still  on  her  hands  and 
knees,  she  crept  nearer,  secure  in  her  victory  at  last  and, 


254  BLIND  WISDOM' 

with  the  knowledge  of  her  mother's  defeat,  deeply;  (Com- 
passionate. 

"  Oh,  you  dear  proud,  divinely  ridiculous  Mother,  why 
will  you  never  come  down  to  our  generation  and  be  one 
of  us?  Can't  you  see  that  it  was  because  of  your  terrible 
daintiness  and  snobbery  that  you  let  all  life  go  by  you — 
and  with  a  man  like  Father,  who  might  have  been  anything 
almost  ?  "  Claire's  strong  arms  crept  about  the  frail  figure. 
"  Be  human  with  me  now,  be  happy  with  me  in  my  love. 
Even  if  it's  indiscreet,  even  if  there  are  thorns  in  it,  it's 
my  very  own  and  I'm  glad  that  I've  had  the  courage  to  em- 
brace it.  I  intend  to  live  each  minute  of  life  to  the  full  and 
accept  any  sting  it  may  bring  me!  But  let  me  begin  by 
feeling  that  you  haven't  cast  me  off,  that  you're  close  and 
watching,  just  as  you  used  to  watch  when  we  were  tiny 
tads.  .  .  .  We  haven't  ceased  to  need  you — not  one 
of  us !  It's  quite  a  big  and  solemn  business  this  getting  mar- 
ried."   Claire's  eyes  were  suddenly  round  as  a  child's. 

She  swept  her  mother  to  her  feet  and  over  to  the  open 
window.  "  Look,  Mother,  it's  spring,  everything  is  start- 
ing and  putting  forth  leaves,  maturing.  Isn't  it  all  sweet 
and  mysterious?  If  I  didn't  belong  to  the  man  I  love,  I'd 
be  standing  still,  blocking  the  great  design  of  nature.  You 
wouldn't  have  me  do  that,  surely — surely,  Mother  o'  Mine  ?  " 

In  the  house  in  Eighth  Street  a  new  order  prevailed. 
Several  weeks  after  the  scene  that  had  been  enacted  by 
Jerry  and  Ballou,  a  faint  light  had  dawned  upon  Joan. 
Previous  to  that  she  had  shrunk  into  her  shell,  a  silent  and 
listless  Joan,  suffering  all  Jerry's  attentions  with  sick  in- 
difference. The  boorish  Mrs.  Flynn  still  presided  in  the 
kitchen  for  those  meals  which  they  took  at  home,  carrying 
off  like  an  ambitious  lady-squirrel  whatever  loot  she  could 
put  hands  on.    She  thought  them  extremely  "easy"  and 


CLAIRE  CONFESSES'  2$^ 

piled  upon  them  her  contumely.  Their  expenses  soared. 
And  then  one  day  Joan  did  actually  come  to  life.  A  casual 
discovery  had  done  much  to  rouse  her  sleeping  sensibilities, 
simply  the  manuscript  of  a  rejected  play  which  some  heart- 
less Olympian  had  mailed  back  to  Jerry,  precluding  the 
possibility  of  a  call  in  person  that  would  entail  explanations 
on  the  part  of  the  potentate. 

Very  slowly  she  tasted  the  meaning  of  it  all,  down  to  the 
last  bitter  dregs  in  the  cup, — Jerry  with  her  parasitic  self 
on  his  hands  and  no  income  would  soon  be  hard  pressed. 
She  saw  how  ignoble  had  been  her  self-pity  all  these  weeks 
of  inactivity!  And  when  she  had  been  inoculated  by  this 
first  germ  of  realization  came  another,  bearing  a  yet  more 
powerful  virus.  Mrs.  Flynn  had  posed  herself  in  the  door- 
way waving  her  apron  back  and  forth,  somewhat  in  the 
same  manner  that  a  deer  manipulates  its  white  flag  when 
angered. 

"It's  afther  more  wages  I  am,"  she  launched  her  un- 
embroidered  ultimatum. 

Joan,  still  slumping  in  Jerry's  armchair  with  one  foot 
beneath  her  and  the  luckless  manuscript  on  her  knee,  opened 
her  brown  eyes  very  wide. 

"  Why  ?  "  she  asked  with  an  equal  brevity. 

The  apron  fanned  in  and  out  more  rapidly.  Florid  spots 
of  color  sprang  to  Mrs.  Flynn's  either  cheek,  and  her  very 
hair,  skinched  upward  on  her  head  and  caught  by  a  single 
pin,  expressed  belligerence. 

"  Lookin*  afther  himself  alone  an'  playin*  the  slave  to 
the  both  of  yez  is  a  different  matter,"  was  the  enlightening 
response.  "  Tin^  dollars  more  the  month  it  is,  or  out  I 
walks." 

Very  deliberately  Joan  returned  the  manuscript  to  the 
table,  uncoiled  her  slight  limbs  with  careless  grace,  and  faced 
the  irate  domestic  on  equal  terms. 


256  BLIND  WISDOM 

"  It  just  occurs  to  me,"  she  said  with  cool  innocence, 
"  that  we  are  not  in  the  least  dependent  upon  you,  Mrs. 
Flynn,  and  now  that  I  come  to  think  of  it  I  can't  imagine 
why  we  have  kept  you  from  the  first." 

Mrs.  Flynn's  mouth  opened  like  a  fissure  in  the  earth, 
and  very  slowly  the  florid  spots  on  her  face  spread  into  an 
even  scarlet. 

"  God  pity  him,"  she  began,  "  if  ever  the  loikes  of  yer- 
self " 

But  Joan  silenced  her  in  a  bored  voice. 

"  Yes,  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say, — I'll  have  to 
learn,  but  at  least  there  will  be  intelligence  behind  the  effort, 
and  good  will,  which  is  more  than  you  have  accorded  him. 
Let  me  see,  what  do  we  owe  you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Flynn  appeared  to  collect  her  scattered  wits.  A 
sickly  smile  disclosed  some  discrepancy  in  the  teeth  with 
which  nature  had  provided  her,  but  golden  substitutes  from 
the  genius  of  a  rising  dentist. 

"  Thirty,  so  far  on  this  month.  Mom,  but  if  ye'd  be  loikin* 
me  to  stay  a  while " 

"  Oh,  no,  thank  you  very  much,  Mrs.  Flynn.  Let  us 
have  an  end  of  forbearance  on  both  sides ! "  From  a 
drawer  of  the  table  Joan  appeared  gaily  to  extract  some 
bills,  appalled  to  discover  how  much  had  trickled  away  un- 
reckoned.  She  made  the  amount  and  handed  it  over  with 
a  curt  nod.     "  Good-day,  Mrs.  Flynn." 

When  the  door  had  closed  she  almost  ran  to  the  kitchen ; 
she  was  the  sudden  heir  to,  not  a  fortune,  but  simply  Mrs. 
Flynn's  blue  checked  apron.  Instantly  her  brain  was  elec- 
tric with  ideas,  with  shame  and  resolution. 

"Oh,  Jerry,  Jerry,"  she  wailed  inwardly,  "what  must 
you  think  of  me?'*  At  last  she  had  discovered  that  the 
easiest  way  to  forget  one's  self  is  to  do  something  for 
another. 


CLAIRE  CONFESSES  257 

She  could  cook,  of  course,  she  could  learn  to  market 
judiciously,  she  could  really  make  a  home  for  him  during 
all  these  months  that  he  would  lend  her  shelter  and  pro- 
tection. It  was  the  least,  the  very  least,  return  for  his 
magnanimity.  But  because  hers  was  naturally  a  fastidious 
nature,  she  first  of  all  laundered  the  blue  checked  apron. 
"  I'll  have  pink  ones,"  she  thought  in  the  first  happy  mood 
that  had  come  to  her  for  days.  "And  my  kitchen  shall  be  a 
thousand  times  more  inviting  than  Mrs.  Flynn's  was. 
There'll  be  geraniums  and  muslin  curtains  and  a  couple  of 
cozy  chairs.  I'll  have  one  of  those  shiny,  sanctimonious 
kettles  that  do  nothing  but  sing.  We'll  entertain  in  a  small 
way.  I'll  study  to  please  him,  and  when  he  feels  some 
moral  support  in  his  home  the  work  will  go  better.  Oh, 
why,  why  have  I  been  sleeping  all  this  time  ?  " 

When  Jerry  walked  in  that  night  an  enticing  odor  of 
cookery  assailed  his  nostrils,  and,  instead  of  Mrs.  Flynn's 
heavy  footfalls  in  the  kitchen,  some  one  was  singing.  He 
was  weary  and  dispirited,  but  the  inference  of  it  all  sur- 
prised and  heartened  him.  He  gravitated  in  that  direction 
and  presently  filled  the  little  doorway,  but  even  then  he 
could  scarcely  believe  his  eyes.  The  stove  shone  like  a 
beaver  hat,  from  the  oven  came  a  spluttering  sound,  and 
near  by,  wearing  the  big  blue  apron,  sat  Joan,  poring  over  a 
cook  book  as  though  it  were  a  volume  of  fairy  lore.  At  his 
voice  she  started  up  radiantly  and  bade  him  admire  her 
handiwork. 

"But  where  is  Mrs.  Flynn?"  he  asked  dully.  Now  at 
last  she  noted  how  haggard  he  was  become. 

"  Gone,  Jerry,  and  not  only  gone  but  forgotten.  Out  of 
our  lives  forever.  The  kitchen  tyrant  is  dead,  my  dear,  and 
her  funeral  cost  but  thirty  dollars.  So  now  we're  going  to 
have  a  republic,  with  myself  for  first  president.  Would 
you,"  she  wondered  archly,  "  care  for  the  position  of  prime 


258  BLIND  WISDOM 

minister  ? "  But  almost  immediately  her  real  contrition 
cried  out  in  the  words,  "  Can  you  forgive  me,  Jerry,  for  the 
blind,  selfish  girl  I've  been?  I'm  awake  now,  and  I  intend 
that  you  shall  have  me  for  a  partner  from  now  on,  not  as  a 
millstone  about  your  neck !  " 

"  You  could  never  be  that,"  he  assured  her.    "  You '* 

But  deeming  discretion  the  better  part  of  valor,  he  left  the 
sentence  suspended. 

"  I've  been  an  ingrate,"  she  insisted  stoutly.  "  I've  de- 
served a  beating  at  your  hands.  I  almost  wish  you  had 
given  it  me,  Jerry." 

"But  a  beating  from  me,"  he  pointed  out  ironically, 
**  would  have  betrayed  the  letter  of  the  contract.  You  re- 
member that  I  was  not  to  lay  hands  on  you,  even,  I  take  it, 
for  the  purpose  of  chastisement." 

He  saw  the  tears  fill  her  eyes,  and  realized  that  he  had 
played  with  her  too  roughly.     She  moaned: 

"  Oh,  I  know,  I  know  how  impossible  it  is  for  you.  It's 
only  fair  under  the  circimistances  that  I  should  support 
myself." 

He  said  gently:  "  You  must  let  me  be  the  judge  of  that !  " 

But  it  was  only  when  they  blundered  into  personalities 
that  they  hurt  one  another's  feelings.  Conscientiously 
thereafter  they  reverted  to  their  former  plane  of  friendship. 
She  dared  not  just  at  first  intrude  upon  the  matter  of  the 
plays.  It  was  better  merely  to  show  him  her  tacit  coopera- 
tion. 

With  infinite  patience  she  regained  old  ground,  adding  to 
the  plain  warp  of  friendship  all  sorts  of  intimate  designs. 
She  profited  steadily  by  her  mistakes,  never  admitting  to 
Jerry  how  arduous  was  her  dual  role  of  diplomacy  and 
domesticity.  She  contrived  to  bring  a  dainty  air  of  ease  to 
all  her  accomplishments.  When,  In  the  morning,  she  donned 
one  of  the  delectable  pink  aprons  of  her  own  manufacture 


CLAIRE  CONFESSES  259 

and  presided  prettily  over  Jerry's  eggs  and  coffee,  he  did  not 
guess  that  the  coffee  had  been  brewed  as  carefully  as  a  holy 
nectar  and  that  she  had  scarcely  breathed  until  two  un- 
ruptured eggs  had  been  fried  on  each  side  according  to  his 
taste.  Later  she  would  market  momentously,  inquiring  as 
anxiously  for  the  state  of  each  vegetable  or  viand  as  she 
would  have  for  a  stricken  friend  not  expected  to  recover. 

Her  imaginative  methods  were  irresistible  and  he  saw 
that  her  activity  was  her  salvation  and  the  one  favorable 
sign  for  the  future.  It  was  a  life  of  sheer,  enthusiastic 
make-believe,  but  it  sufficed  to  prevent  her  from  brooding 
over  Ballou.  Jerry  himself  was  tricked  into  a  novel  con- 
tent. He  knew  that  her  brave  mask  must  often  be  lowered 
in  secret  when  her  thoughts  would  wing  like  swallows  to  that 
young  lover,  waiting  in  banishment.  But  for  days  at  a 
time  he  was  able  to  forget. 

One  evening,  returning  from  a  walk  which  followed  a 
long  day  of  endeavor,  he  found  Joan  in  a  state  of  suppressed 
excitement. 

"  I  have  had  a  caller,"  she  announced  mysteriously,  and 
her  brown  eyes  were  flecked  with  dancing  lights. 

"  Yes  ?  "  queried  Jerry  apprehensively. 

"An  old  man,"  she  conceded  information  in  half  por- 
tions. "  Looked  as  if  he  had  come  to  serve  a  writ  upon  us. 
Eyebrows  black  as  your  hat  and  an  inch  long,  and  stood 
straight  out  before  him  like  antennse.  He  also  had  a  mus- 
tache, fierce  and  pessimistic  and  grizzled.  Yes,  Jerry,  I 
surely  thought  you  had  forged  a  note  or  robbed  a  bank. 
But  then,  later,  of  course  I  noted  that  he  was  far  too  august 
to  be  actually  tracking  the  criminal  down.  He  would  be 
the  one  to  intone  the  death  sentence,  *.  .  .  To  be  hanged 
by  the  neck  till  he  is  dead    .     .    /  " 

Jerry  had  tucked  a  cigarette  into  his  humorous  mouth 
and  paid  her  the  tribute  of  attentive  silence. 


26o  BLIND  WISDOM 

"  He  would  not  tell  his  name,"  Joan  continued  innocently, 
"  but  he  called  himself  an  old  friend — you  can't  imagine 
how  incongruous  the  assertion  was,  in  conjimction  with  his 
intimidating  manner.  Said  he  just  wanted  to  know  how 
we  were  getting  on.'* 

"  Hmm,"  came  from  Jerry.    "  Most  extraordinary ! " 

"  Yes,  that  was  what  I  thought.  I  invited  him  in,  feel- 
ing both  flattered  and  frightened,  and  he  stayed  rather  a  long 
time,  without  any  offer  of  violence,  however.  Also  he 
asked  a  great  many  questions,  some  of  them  rather  im- 
pudent." 

Jerry  cleared  his  throat,  a  gleam  in  his  eye. 

"  For  instance  ?  " 

"  For  instance, — if  you  had  sold  a  play  yet." 

"And  you  told  him?" 

Joan  answered  without  a  quiver,  "That  we  expected  some- 
thing to  be  produced  in  the  fall." 

Jerry  could  not  restrain  a  broad  smile  at  the  prevarication. 

"And  just  how  did  you  reconcile  the  statement  with  your 
conscience,  Joan  ?  " 

She  wore  the  strangely  psychic  look  that  he  loved. 

"  I  didn't  have  any  conscience  at  that  moment,  Jerry. 
I  just  had  my — ^my  blind  wisdom,  and  it  told  me  what  to 
say.  Then,  too,  I've  read  'The  Great  Gift,*  and  I  think 
it's  beautiful,  and  I'm  going  to  make  Claire's  husband  prom- 
ise to  push  it  along.  Has  it  occurred  to  you  that  he  would 
make  a  splendid  Peter  ?  " 

Jerry  regarded  her  with  a  new,  admiring  interest. 

"What  else  did  he  ask  you — this  caller?"  he  pursued 
without  comment. 

She  laughed  confusedly  and  the  color  swept  down  into 
her  white  throat. 

"  If  I  didn't  consider  myself  brave  to  have  taken  the 
chance    .    .    .'* 


CLAIRE  CONFESSES  261 

Jerry  reddened. 

"  Naturally  you  had  no  way  of  letting  him  understand 
that  the  step  was  not  necessarily  final " 

Confusion  rioted  over  her,  but  she  gazed  back  unflinch- 
ingly. 

"  I  told  him  that  I  could  not  see  where  the  bravery 
came  in." 

"  That  was  very  sweet  of  you." 

"And  he  hinted  in  a  nasty  way  that  rich  men's  sons  were 
always  certain  of  support  in  the  event  of  failure,  that  no 
doubt  you  banked  on  your  father  to  extend  a  hand  when 
you  found  yourself  sinking.  And  I  answered  as  stiffly  as 
possible  that  you  would  not,  we  would  not,  hear  of  such  a 
thing,  and  then,  oh,  Jerry,  I'm  afraid  I  ushered  him  de- 
liberately toward  the  door." 

Jerry  alternated  between  amusement  and  dismay. 

"  But,  Joan,  the  poor  old  man " 

"  That's  just  it,  Jerry,  I  realized  only,  when  he  was  turn- 
ing to  go  in  his  terribly  respectable  black  coat,  how  im- 
poverished for  affection  he  really  is.  There's  no  one  so 
pitiful  in  this  world  as  a  bugaboo,  who  alienates  all  who  be- 
long to  him.  I  seemed  to  know  that  you  would  want  me  to 
be  kind  to  him.  And  so  I  dragged  him  back  again  and  made 
him  a  cup  of  tea !  " 

She  had  dropped  all  pretense  now,  nor  did  Jerry  evince 
surprise.  There,  in  the  candle-lit  room,  in  the  soft  spring 
evening,  with  the  association  of  his  father  between  them,  he 
was  moved  to  talk  of  his  boyhood,  running  from  one  typical 
episode  into  another  and  never  so  much  expecting  comment 
from  her  as  the  cozy  knowledge  of  how  well  she  under- 
stood.    He  spoke  tenderly  of  his  mother. 

"Just  fancy  that  shy,  sensitive  nature  breaking  itself 
against  the  wall  of  my  father's  egotism  and  harshness. 
What  maddened  him  about  her  I  suppose  was  that  she 


262  BLIND  WISDOM 

seemed  to  accept  very  sweetly  from  the  start  the  wide  dis- 
parity in  their  years  and  temperaments.  She  was  dutiful 
in  the  extreme  and  delicately  true  to  him,  even  in  her 
thoughts ;  she  was  even  loving  in  an  indulgent  kind  of  way, 
the  mother  in  her  finding  something  to  pity  and  protect  in 
the  great,  gruff  man.  But  all  her  pretty  enjoyments  she 
took  care  to  hide,  just  as  a  child  will  tuck  away  the  treasures 
it  is  begrudged.  When  I  came  along,  she  hid  me  from  him, 
too — and  our  good  times  together  were  quite  too  secret  to 
be  openly  discussed." 

And  he  described  the  golden  summers  they  would  spend 
at  some  obscure  place  in  New  Hampshire  where  his  father 
owned  a  farm.  Invariably  the  father  would  be  busied  with 
his  books  indoors,  for  even  during  the  vacation  he  allowed 
himself  he  was  not  really  out  of  the  harness,  having  no 
idea  of  the  meaning  of  recreation.  He  could  only  play  in 
the  clumsiest  ways.  But  the  boy  and  his  mother  would  be 
abroad  all  day  in  the  green  palace  of  out-of-doors,  engaged 
in  mystic  pursuits  such  as  bird  lore  and  the  like,  utterly  in- 
comprehensible to  his  paternal  parent,  who  used  his  eyes 
principally  for  the  perusal  of  cold  facts.  One  incident 
seemed  especially  graphic  to  Joan,  who  in  this  first  encounter 
with  Jerry's  background  had  found  the  sudden  key  to  much 
that  he  was. 

Jerry  had  been  given  permission  by  the  owner  of  a  neigh- 
boring estate  to  fish  in  his  stocked  waters,  on  the  condition 
that  any  muskelonge  he  took  should  be  thrown  back  for 
the  sole  gratification  of  the  old  man's  sporting  proclivities. 
Pickerel  and  other  small  fish  might  be  kept  with  impunity. 
But  came  a  day  when  temptation  proved  too  much  for  him. 
As  he  recalled  now,  it  had  been  a  Sunday,  one  of  the  kind 
when  it  rained  too  hard  to  go  to  church,  but  did  not  rain 
too  hard  to  go  fishing.  Jerry  had  landed  a  fine  big  muske- 
longe, and  in  his  excitement  over  the  catch  decided  that  his 


CLAIRE  CONFESSES  263 

forbearance  all  these  weeks  was  deserving  of  reward.  He 
would  secrete  the  fish  and  carry  it  home  as  a  trophy  to 
his  mother.  As  fortune  had  favored  him,  his  mother,  who 
had  winked  at  the  enterprise,  had  insisted  upon  an  oiled 
coat.  Resourceful  Jerry  fastened  a  line  through  the  fish's 
mouth  and  suspended  it  about  his  neck  so  that  it  was 
pendant  behind,  just  between  the  shoulder  blades.  And 
over  this  great  prize  he  donned  the  demure  oiler. 

But  a  perverse  Fate  had  written  that  on  the  way  home  he 
should  encounter  the  rightful  owner  of  the  muskelonge,  a 
stout,  Pickwickian  person,  who,  much  to  the  boy's  discom- 
fort, waxed  suddenly  sociable.  Jerry  bore  no  outward 
traces  of  his  duplicity,  but  when  the  old  gentleman's  keen 
eyes  had  once  fastened  upon  him  he  felt  himself  transparent 
as  crystal. 

"  I  hear,  my  lad,"  remarked  Pickwick  patronizingly,  "  that 
later  on  you  intend  to  study  for  the  law." 

Jerry  miserably  admitted  that  such  was  the  course  recom- 
mended him. 

"  Ah,"  returned  the  other  with  what  must  have  seemed 
like  terrible,  deliberate  archness,  "  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it, 
very  sorry  indeed,  for  the  feeling  that  I  have  about  lawyers 
is  this, — that  one  can  be  looking  you  straight  in  the  eye  and 
at  the  same  time  be  stealing  your  property! " 

Jerry  slapped  his  knee  at  the  recollection,  and  Joan 
gasped : 

"  Oh,  what  a  delicious  situation,  and  the  fish,  the  what- 
ever-you-call-it,  burning  holes  in  your  back  all  the 
time." 

"  Yes,"  mused  Jerry,  relishing  the  remembrance,  "  and  the 
most  astounding  part  of  it  all  was  that  the  old  fellow  was 
actually  innocent  and  unsuspecting.  I  made  certain  of  that 
years  afterward,  when  the  theft  was  safely  outlawed.  You 
should  have  heard  him  laugh." 


264  BLIND  WISDOM 

"And  was  there  no  disagreeable  aftermath  to  it  all  ?  "  she 
besought  an  anti-climax. 

"  I  took  the  beauty  home,  of  course,"  Jerry  continued, 
"  and  showed  it  to  my  mother.  She  had  a  sly  streak  of  mis- 
chief in  her  that  made  her  the  most  adorable  of  women,  and 
so — she  didn't  scold  very  hard." 

"  No,"  laughed  Joan,  "  I  presume  not."  And  she  had  a 
vision  of  that  human  scene,  the  childlike  mother,  half  in 
a  flutter  at  her  boy's  prowess,  half  pretending  to  rebuke 
him,  the  eager  lad,  still  in  his  criminal  coat,  and  the  fish 
between  them,  luminous  as  moonlight. 

But  with  his  stem  sire,  who  happened  in  at  tHe  inop- 
portune moment,  it  was  a  different  matter,  as  Jerry  well 
remembered. 

"My  father  was  furious,  not  so  much  on  the  score  of 
the  muskelonge,  the  significance  of  which  he  was  ignorant, 
but  because  I  had  broken  the  old  blue  law  against  fishing  on 
Sunday.  I  don't  know  how  it  all  ended,  but  it  was  one  of 
the  times  when  my  mother  plead  for  me  and  the  first  time, 
I  believe,  that  I  picked  a  flaw  in  my  father's  logic.  *  But 
you  told  him  that  he  need  not  attend  church,*  she  reminded, 
and  what  do  you  suppose  he  answered?  I  shall  never  for- 
get it  to  my  dying  day,"  Jerry  laughed  with  a  deep,  rich 
humor.  "  He  said,  *  I  told  the  boy  nothing,  Mary,  and  I 
told  him  so  most  emphatically ! ' " 


CHAPTER  XXV 
THE  RUTHERFORDS  PAY  A  CALh 

The  Rutherfords  were  very  much  in  love.  They  were,  m 
all  respects  and  appearances,  the  stereotyped  bride  and 
groom.  In  the  high-class  theatrical  hotel  where  they  had 
elected  to  live  the  fact  was  generally  known  and  made  much 
of.  That  the  popular  matinee  idol  had  actually  anchored  his 
affections  was  a  good  deal  of  a  miracle,  but  the  fact  that 
he  had  married  a  romantically  beautiful  girl  went  a  long  way 
in  explanation. 

As  Ridgely  was  drawing  a  substantial  salary,  Claire 
patronized  the  shops  liberally,  and  even  her  mourning  car- 
ried a  dramatic  quality.  People  spoke  of  her  as  "  dis- 
tinguished "  and  "  ravishing "  and  Ridgely  was  pleased. 
They  were  demonstrative  and  a  trifle  regardless  in  their  love 
making;  they  kissed  openly  in  the  hotel  lobby  and  some- 
times fed  one  another  at  table,  and  when  a  man  ogled  Claire 
or  a  girl  looked  at  Ridgely  the  other  professed  and  possibly 
felt  a  twinge  of  jealousy.  Without  the  slightest  attempt 
at  home-making  they  took  up  the  sort  of  life  usually  at- 
tributed to  persons  of  the  stage.  Claire  attended  each  per- 
formance and  waited  behind  the  scenes  till  Ridgely  was 
ready  to  take  her  home,  after  which  they  had  "a  bite  to 
eat,"  spent  an  hour  or  two  chatting  with  their  friends  at 
the  hotel,  and  retired  to  sleep  out  the  night  and  well  into  the 
next  day.  Luncheon  was  usually  en  negligee,  but  in  the 
afternoons  they  would  emerge,  as  faultless  a  pair  as  can  be 
imagined,  to  stroll  up  the  avenue  and  enjoy  a  dance  some- 
where at  the  tea  hour. 


266  BLIND  WISDOM 

Only  one  untoward  circumstance  marred  that  blissful  be- 
ginning. Ridgely,  burning  the  love-notes  of  his  past  after 
his  marriage  to  Claire,  and  assuring  himself  of  a  clean 
conscience  for  the  future,  h^d  overlooked  one  scathing 
epistle.  However  admirable  his  character,  he  could  hardly 
have  escaped  adulation  and  yet  have  remained  an  actor, 
and  this  is  what  one  of  his  disgruntled  admirers  had  written : 

"  Not  knowing  her  I  cannot  congratulate  you.  Know- 
ing you  I  cannot  congratulate  her. 

"  Signed  (of  all  unfortunate  names),  Daisy." 

That  clever  insinuation  in  the  hands  of  Qaire  enjoyed  its 
own  diabolical  success,  causing  the  first  of  Claire's  and 
Ridgely's  love-quarrels.  For  several  days  she  held  aloof, 
while  Ridgely  consumed  a  number  of  cocktails  with  each  of 
his  solitary  meals  and  actually  missed  a  cue  at  one  of  his 
afternoon  performances.  Then,  as  swiftly  as  the  breach 
had  yawned  between  them,  it  was  bridged  and  the  little  blind 
god  once  more  reigned  triumphant.  In  celebration  of  the 
reunion  there  was  an  exchange  of  gifts  and  fatuous  demon- 
strations of  tenderness. 

So  essentially  exclusive  were  they  in  their  affection  that 
Claire  found  scarcely  any  time  to  devote  to  her  sisters.  But 
one  day  she  and  Ridgely  taxied  down  to  the  supposed  love- 
nest  of  the  Callendars  and,  with  something  of  happy  con- 
descension, climbed  the  two  flights  of  stairs.  There  was  the 
sound  of  light  feet  from  within,  the  tentative  "  woof,  woof  " 
of  a  puppy,  (for,  as  a  favorable  sign,  the  two  had  acquired 
a  dog,  a  temperamental  Irish  terrier  called  "Dennis"). 
Then  the  door  was  opened  and  Joan  was  revealed  with  the 
puppy  in  her  arms.  Of  late  she  had  grown  inscrutable,  but 
she  was  undeniably  prettier  than  ever  before.  In  her  simple 
house  dress  she  looked  not  unlike  a  very  tall  child,  a  child 
jvith  faint  wonder  in  her  eyes,  but  faith  and  courage  in  the 


THE  RUTHERFORDS  PAY  A  CALL        267 

set  of  her  lips.  The  realization  was  borne  in  upon  Claire 
that  since  her  marriage  Joan  had  become  a  stranger  to  her ; 
she  did  not  so  much  seem  to  have  given  herself  grown-up 
airs  as  to  have  taken  measures  of  defence  against  all  spiritual 
intrusion.  And  such  a  state  of  affairs  was  naturally  irritat- 
ing to  an  older  sister  who  had  always  seen  into  the  other's 
mental  processes. 

At  the  time  of  Joan's  marriage  Agnes  and  Godfrey  had 
taken  oath  between  them  that  no  hint  of  the  truth  concern- 
ing the  girl's  infatuation  for  Bret  should  be  divulged. 
Neither  Claire,  her  husband,  nor  Mrs.  Wister  had  known  of 
Ballou's  tragic  tie,  and  now  that  the  tie  was  severed  post- 
mortems seemed  as  futile  as  unwarranted. 

Joan,  immersed  in  her  labors  for  Jerry,  had  been  rewarded 
by  a  measure  of  serenity ;  she  had  given  herself  small  time 
for  repining,  yet  when  Claire  and  Ridgely,  in  their  hand- 
some clothes  and  air  of  elation,  knocked  at  her  door  she 
realized  by  contrast  the  loneliness  of  her  position. 

"  Come  in,  dears,"  she  cried  bravely,  "  and  seat  your- 
selves in  the  two  best  chairs,  while  I  dash  to  the  kitchen  to 
see  if  my  pie  is  burning.  It's  a  way  pies  have,"  and  she 
disappeared  into  the  rear  of  the  apartment,  Dennis  scurrying 
industriously  at  her  heels. 

Claire  and  Ridgely  exchanged  amused  glances  as  they 
strolled  into  the  big  studio-living-room  that  had  taken  on  a 
more  alluring  appearance  from  Joan's  feminine  wand. 

"  Who  would  have  thought  it  of  her  ?  "  laughed  Qaire, 
sniffing  daintily  the  air,  now  redolent  of  apples  and  cin- 
namon. "Do  you  know.  Ridge,  I  shouldn't  be  surprised 
if  she  turned  out  to  be  deadly  domestic?  And  as  a  young- 
ster she  was  absolutely  incapable  of  any  practical  achieve- 
ment, the  most  hopeless  dreamer." 

"  It  must  be  love  for  Callendar,"  surmised  Rutherford 
pleasantly.    "  There's  no  denying  the  evidence  of  that  en- 


268  BLIND  WISDOM 

ticing  odor,  I  admit,  but  I  can't  believe  that  your  sister 
would  turn  out — a  deadly  anything.  If  she  makes  pies  for 
Callendar,  it's  only  because  she's  finding  it  a  kind  of  lark. 
But  she  looks  like  Trilby.  By  Jove,  I  wonder  why  he  hasn't 
written  a  play  around  her !  " 

"  Please  unfasten  your  *  costly  garments,' "  said  a  mis- 
chievous voice  behind  them,  "  and  tell  me  what  it  is  like  to 
have  a  prosperous  pose?  I  must  say  you  do  credit  to  it. 
Now  Jerry  and  I " — she  did  not  succeed  in  sounding  quite 
natural — "  are  at  the  other  extreme,  and  we're  just  dis- 
covering how  to  be  poor  gracefully.  Before  that  poor  Jerry 
was  maintaining  me  in  wasteful  idleness ;  he  kept  remember- 
ing our  gala  days  in  Crannsford  when  we  were  all  wallow- 
ing in  the  lap  o'  luxury.  But  I've  pointed  out  to  him  that 
even  if  I  were  still  Joan  Wister  I  could  hardly  enjoy  the 
same  untroubled  existence." 

She  smoothed  her  black  skirt  with  a  reminiscent  hand, 
then  added  with  a  dash  of  humor,  "  When  he  realized  it,  you 
can't  imagine  what  a  comfort  it  was  to  him ! " 

She  had  climbed  into  a  chair  and  tucked  a  characteristic 
foot  under  her,  studying  a  bit  wistfully  the  other  two,  whose 
happiness  was  entirely  uncomplex.  Ridgely  was  as  trim- 
waisted  as  a  boy,  and  dressed  with  great  jauntiness.  He 
held  his  stick  and  heavy  suede  gloves  between  his  knees, 
and  Joan  remarked  that  the  gloves  were  a  shade  too  bright, 
the  one  telltale  joyous  note  that  betrayed  him  for  the  man 
he  was.  Occasionally  he  was  intrigued  by  his  own  reflec- 
tion in  the  mirror  and  arranged  his  smile.  But  it  was  all 
done  quite  innocently.  Claire  had  thrown  open  her  long 
fur  coat  and  with  a  slim  hand  bracketed  on  her  hip  strolled 
about  with  a  dilettante  air. 

"  How  do  you  like  being  Bohemians  ?  "  she  threw  care- 
lessly over  her  shoulder. 

"  You  mean,  how  do  we  like  living  among  them?  "    Joan 


THE  RUTHERFORDS  PAY  A  CALL        269 

caught  her  up  with  a  quiet  gleam.  "  There's  a  difference, 
you  must  admit!  Of  course,  Jerry  pretends  he's  a  Bo- 
hemian, because  that's  the  only  way  to  sympathetically  enjoy 
them,  but  he's  not  really,  not  Jerry." 

"No?" 

"  No,  because  clean  linen  is  his  religion,  and  he'd  no 
more  mention  his  soul  than  he  would  his  bath." 

Rutherford  laughed  at  her  inference. 

"  I  take  it  your  neighbors  have  no  objection  to  mention- 
ing theirs." 

"  Rather  not.  They  are  most  upsetting,  but  I  must  say  I 
find  it  a  novel  experience  to  have  my  mental  storehouse  set 
topsy  turvy  every  day.  They  don't  mind  what  holy  skeleton 
they  drag  to  the  light  and  insult.  Some  have  no  modesty, 
some  have  no  god,  and  some  won't  eat  meat !  But  they  all 
smoke  heaps  of  cigarettes,  and  through  the  haze  they  revo- 
lutionize the  world  and  chop  off  Dame  Grundy's  head  with- 
out compunction.  Once,"  she  confessed  whimsically,  "  I 
started  to  smoke  too,  in  sheer  self-defence,  but  Jerry  un- 
gently  removed  the  offending  weed,  and  sent  them  all 
skedaddling.  He  shooed  them  out  as  though  they  had  been 
so  many  monkeys.  And  then  he  opened  the  windows  and 
read  me  two  chapters  of  Cardinal  Newman  as  an  antidote." 

Ridgely  was  so  markedly  enjoying  himself  that  Claire 
came  back  to  her  master's  side  and  sank  into  a  chair  opposite 
her  sister, 

"And  what  of  your  husband's  play?"  asked  Rutherford. 
"  I  mean  the  last  one  he's  been  building?  " 

Joan  tapped  the  drawer  of  the  table,  trying  to  control  the 
shadow  that  came  to  lodge  upon  her  brow.  She  was  already 
keenly  concerned  for  Jerry's  venture  in  the  dramatic  field, 
and  she  felt  the  greatest  delicacy  and  reluctance  to  confess 
his  failure. 

"  I  have  a  copy  here,  but  there  are  several  others  out. 


270  BLIND  WISDOM 

collecting  dust  in  managers'  offices.  Oh,  I'm  cynical  on  the 
subject,  Ridgely.  There's  always  favoritism  or  wooden- 
headedness " 

Rutherford  held  up  a  protesting  hand.  Here  was  famil- 
iar ground,  for  in  correlation  with  his  acting  he  possessed 
insight  into  the  theory  of  play  production. 

"  My  dear  little  girl,  you  are  making  a  very  narrow 
and  biased  statement.  No  producer  is  going  to  cut  off  good 
box  office  receipts  for  the  purpose  of  foiling  an  obscure 
author.  He  doesn't  care  who  the  devil  the  author  is,  so 
long  as  he,  vulgarly  speaking,  produces  the  goods." 

"  Then,"  interrupted  Joan  impetuously,  "  the  public  is 
not  educated  to  a  point  where  it  can  appreciate '* 

He  shook  his  head  indulgently. 

"  I  take  it  Callendar  is  not  writing  plays  with  a  universal 
appeal.  He  is  writing  for  an  essentially  picked  audience. 
Now,  Joan,  there  are  the  four  types  of  plays,  and  when  I 
tell  you  what  they  are  we  can  perhaps  determine  Jerry's." 
He  counted  them  off  on  his  fingers.  "  Tragedy,  Melodrama, 
Comedy  and  Farce,  and  the  Modem  Social  Drama.  I  found 
these  definitions  in  a  book  and  I  think  them  rather  apt.  In 
Tragedy  the  characters  determine  the  plot;  in  Melodrama 
the  plot  determines  and  controls  the  characters.  Melodrama 
is  an  effective  type  for  exhibiting  certain  interesting  phases 
of  life.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  evident  that  Tragedy  is  a 
higher  type  of  art.  In  Tragedy  nothing  may  happen  that  is 
not  a  result  of  the  nature  of  the  characters." 

Joan  nodded  gravely.    Rutherford  continued: 

"  In  Comedy,  the  characters  dominate  the  action ;  in 
Farce  the  action  dominates  the  characters.  Now,  does 
Jerry's  play  fall  under  any  of  these  headings?" 

Joan  sucked  a  contemplative  fist. 

"  No-o,  I  can't  think  that  it  does,  exactly." 

Ridgely  brightened. 


THE  RUTHERFORDS  PAY  A  CALL        2;  I 

"Then  I  suspect  it  is  a  social  drama.  The  hero  is  at 
odds  with  his  environment,  is  he  not,  opposed  to  the  world  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,"  she  cried,  brightening.  "  How  did  you 
guess  ?  He's  in  the  vanguard,  and  so  much  finer  and  more 
discerning  than  the  others  that  they  are  moved  to  persecute 
him!" 

"  Oh,  of  course,  and  that  presupposes  that  the  minority 
is  right  and  the  majority  wrong."  Ridgely  looked  very  well 
pleased  with  his  precocity.  "  I  see  exactly  the  sort  of  play 
it  is,  the  kind  Callendar  would  write,  and  we'll  waive  the 
question  of  whether  such  a  drama  is  moral  or  immoral ;  its 
morality  must  lie  in  its  treatment.  From  what  you've  told 
me  I  should  say  this  play  has  a  chance — but  with  a  special 
audience,  mind  you !  If  Callendar  hasn't  '  put  it  over,'  the 
reason  probably  lies  in  the  fact  that  he  has  not  been  quite 
careful  enough  to  keep  his  hero  sound. "  A  play  of  this  sort 
is  a  peculiarly  delicate  undertaking.  You  pit  your  char- 
acter against  Dame  Grundy,  and  you  convince  your  audi- 
ence that  he,  who  is  standing  alone,  is  right.  Yet  the  author 
must  never  confuse  standards  of  right  and  wrong.  He 
must  tell  no  lies  about  life.  As  I  said  before,  immorality 
only  means  untruth." 

"  Heavens,  Ridge,"  exclaimed  Claire,  yawning  slightly, 
**  you  sound  like  a  professor  delivering  a  lecture." 

But  Rutherford  paid  no  heed.  He  was  reaching  for  the 
manuscript. 

"  Now,  of  course,  you  are  going  to  give  it  to  me  to  read. 
What  is  the  title,  by  the  way?" 

"  He  calls  it  '  The  Great  Gift,* "  answered  Joan  in  some 
trepidation,  but  once  she  had  proffered  the  folio  she  with- 
drew it  as  quickly.  "  No-o,  I  think  I  won't  ask  you  to  take 
it  this  time,  Ridgely,  I  should  like  to  reread  it  myself  and 
talk  it  over  with  Jerry  first.  Perhaps  there's  something  in 
what  you  say." 


272  BLIND  WISDOM 

When  they  were  leaving,  Claire  asked  Joan  a  few  osten- 
sibly careless  questions,  in  reality  well  calculated  to  yield 
the  desired  harvest  of  information.  •  She  could  not  quite 
rid  herself  of  the  feeling  that  Joan  was  keeping  something 
under  cover.  Joan  was  holding  Dennis  in  her  arms,  and  he 
seemed  suddenly  to  claim  all  her  attention.  But  she  an- 
swered as  well  as  she  could,  simulating  a  casual  tone. 
Nevertheless,  Claire  thought  that  she  was  scarcely  as  buoy- 
ant as  one  might  have  expected  a  bride  of  a  few  months 
to  be.  She  said  that  Jerry  was  very  good  to  her,  too  gener- 
ous, in  fact,  that  she  thought  she  should  like  Eighth  Street 
very  much  when  she  became  used  to  it,  and  other  generali- 
ties which  baffled  and  angered  her  sister,  who  was  nothing 
if  not  definite.  Claire  had  had  small  chance  for  observing 
Joan  and  Jerry  together,  and  now  she  set  down  a  mental 
reminder  to  call  again  soon  in  the  evening,  when  she  could 
be  certain  of  finding  him  in. 

Joan  was  still  interspersing  her  care  of  the  terrier  with 
meaningless  remarks  when  Claire  assumed  other  tactics. 

"  I  saw  Mr.  Ballou  yesterday,  Joan ! "  The  unexpected 
announcement  gave  Joan  no  time  to  fortify  herself  and  veil 
those  telltale  windows  of  the  soul,  the  eyes.  She  knew 
herself  caught  and  she  paid  with  a  full  measure  of  confu- 
sion. 

"  You  did,  Claire  ?    Was  he  looking  well  ?  " 

"  I  shouldn't  say  so,"  returned  Claire  breezily,  following 
up  her  clue.  "  He  looked  dreadfully — ill-tempered  and 
blue.  Perhaps  that's  because  there's  been  a  death  in  his 
family.    He's  in  mourning  for  some  one.     Did  you  know  ?  '* 

"  Yes,"  answered  Joan  truthfully.  "  I  knew.  He  came 
to  call  on — Jerry — and  me." 

Her  attitude  was  so  mysteriously  dejected  that  Ruther- 
ford took  pity  on  her. 

"  Come  along,  Claire,  or  you'll  make  me  late  for  the  per- 


THE  RUTHERFORDS  PAY  A  CALL        273 

formance.  Good  luck,  little  sister,  and  remember  to  let  me 
see  the  play  when  you've  mulled  it  over  between  you.  My 
regards  to  Callendar." 

Claire  did  not  speak  till  they  were  half-way  down  the 
murky  stairs,  then  she  remarked,  with  her  usual  native 
shrewdness : 

"  Either  she  loves  Jerry  so  that  she  can't  profane  her 
happiness  by  speaking  of  it,  or  else — she  is  not  yet  certain 
whether  she  loves  him  at  all." 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense,"  scoffed  Ridgely  after  the  manner 
of  husbands,  in  some  masculine  way  annoyed  because  Claire 
had  voiced  his  own  reluctant  suspicion. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
JOAN  AND  JERRY,  ALLIES 

When  a  writer  has  found  an  intelligent  critic  half  his 
battle  is  won:  also  critics  are  born,  not  made,  else  how 
could  it  be  explained  that  Joan  Callendar,  as  new  to  the 
game  "  as  a  new-cut  tooth,"  should  render  Jerry  immediate 
service  ?  When,  the  evening  of  Rutherford's  visit,  she  sug- 
gested to  him  that  they  go  over  the  piece  together,  he  had 
good-naturedly,  but  hopelessly,  acquiesced.  Judging  by  his 
former  experience  with  amateurs,  she  was  certain  to  pro- 
ceed without  the  slightest  consideration  for  technique ;  from 
a  literary  point  of  view  (her  only  experience  had  been  with 
books)  she  would  wish  to  pad  the  lines  so  that  they  should 
flow  more  smoothly  in  the  reading,  forgetting  quite  that  the 
two  crafts  are  diametrically  opposed  in  purpose,  that  even 
the  finest  plays  are  rarely  read,  but  must  depend  for  their 
effect  upon  the  spoken  interpretation.  Also  that  the  crowd 
believes  what  it  sees  more  readily  than  what  it  hears. 

"  You  know,"  he  took  the  precaution  to  warn  her,  "  that 
the  dialogue  in  itself  is  not  the  important  part  of  the  play. 
Situation  is  the  backbone  of  dialogue.  In  olden  times,  after 
the  framework  of  the  thing  was  carefully  constructed,  the 
Greek  dramatist  would  let  his  servant  write  the  speeches. 
My  work  is  practically  finished  weeks  before  I  begin  the 
dialogue." 

Joan  smiled  archly  at  him. 

"  Don't  distress  yourself,  Jerry.  I  have  no  intention  of 
tearing  your  brain-child  to  pieces,  but  even  if  I  had  I've 


JOAN  AND  JERRY,  ALLIES  275 

taken  the  precaution  of  reading  up  a  bit  on  the  subject  so 
that  you  won't  find  me  too  grossly  ignorant.  No,  I  believe 
there's  a  different  slant  we  need  to  get  on  this — Rutherford 
gave  me  the  suggestion, — ^he  said  that  in  a  play  of  this  sort 
the  difficult  thing  is  not  to  confuse  standards,  to  keep  your 
hero  sound.  I  have  a  suspicion  that  is  what  you  have  done, 
and  what  you  have  not  done !  " 

Such  a  really  pertinent  suggestion  was  the  last  thing 
in  the  world  he  had  expected,  and  immediately  she  could 
see  that  he  was  impressed. 

"  We  won't  try  to  rush  the  whole  thing  through  in  one 
evening,"  she  added,  consolidating  her  gain,  "  but  we'll 
take  our  time,  weighing  it  thoroughly.  For  greater  effi- 
ciency, let  me  assume  the  aggressive  to  pick  flaws  in  Peter's 
psychology ;  you,  as  his  creator,  can  defend  him,  if  you  like." 

So  stimulating  the  session  proved  that  it  was  midnight 
before  "  they  came  up  for  air."  And  the  pages  of  the  first 
act  were  nearly  unrecognizable,  notes  and  hieroglyphics  fly- 
ing about  on  the  margins  like  stray  shrapnel,  Joan  lay  back 
in  her  chair  in  the  flush  of  happy  excitement. 

"  It's  better,  don't  you  feel  it?  " 

"  Yes,  I  feel  that  we're  rounding  into  a  bigger  conception 
entirely,  but  do  you  realize  what  it  will  mean  to  rewrite  the 
whole  thing?  The  summer  given  over  to  it,  and  you  and  I 
starving  in  our  attic." 

She  deprecated  the  possibility  with  a  laugh. 

"  Jerry,  the  thing  is  for  you  to  take  your  idea  to  Famham 
again  and  put  it  to  him  strongly.  Convert  Ridgely,  if  pos- 
sible, and  make  him  stand  by  when  you  have  the  interview ; 
he  boasts  that  he  has  influence.  But  whether  he  has  or  not, 
the  fact  that  he  could  be  enthusiastic  over  the  role  of  Peter 
ought  to  help.  I  suppose  a  producer  never  really  knows 
whether  or  not  a  character  can  be  made  convincing  till  some 
actor  has  put  it  to  the  test." 


276  BLIND  WISDOM 

"And  what  makes  you  think  that  Rutherford  could  play 
that  part?" 

"  I  don't  say  he  necessarily  could — himself — ^but  he's  near 
enough  the  type  to  understand  its  possibilities.  When  he 
was  here  last  time  I  studied  him  every  minute  with  Peter 
in  mind,  and  once  or  twice  I  caught  the  Peter  look  in  his 
eye."  She  was  triumphant  and  her  cocksureness  proved  a 
powerful  elixir  to  Jerry. 

Next  day  they  went  to  Rutherford's  hotel  and  swept  him 
back  with  them  by  sheer  dynamic  force,  and  for  three  hours 
at  his  right  and  left  hand  they  outlined,  explained  and  em- 
broidered their  plot  by  extracts  from  the  play.  And  when 
he  was  tmconvinced  by  an  episode  Joan,  who  had  never 
acted  in  her  life,  threw  herself  unself -consciously  into  the 
piece,  emotionalizing  a  line  or  gesturing  a  sentence  with  such 
effect  that  both  men  stared  at  her  aghast. 

"  By  Jove,"  cried  Rutherford,  when  a  glance  at  his  watch 
drove  home  to  him  the  perilous  length  of  time  he  had  stayed, 
*'  I  agree  with  Joan  that  you  have  something  here.  Even  if 
you  don't  succeed  in  getting  it  put  on,  the  fact  can't  militate 
against  the  merits  of  the  piece.  If  you  want  me  to  lend 
moral  support,  Callendar,  I'll  be  glad  to  go  to  Farnham 
with  you.  But  really" — he  smiled  his  dark,  clean-shaven 
smile — "  I  suspect  that  you  are  too  inherently  reserved 
to  give  your  own  work  the  proper  boost.  What  if  Joan 
too " 

But  before  his  thought  was  crystallized  the  girl  had 
caught  it  and  was  assailing  Jerry's  shoulder  with  her  thistle- 
light  hand. 

"  Yes,  let  me,  do  let  me.  I'm  full  of  it,  and  I'm  bursting 
to  plant  the  seed  in  fertile  soil." 

They  smiled  in  unison. 

"  I  think  she  will  make  me  an  excellent  press  agent,  eh, 
Rutherford?" 


JOAN  AND  JERRY,  ALLIES  277 

"  I  wish,"  said  Rutherford  sincerely,  "  that  I  had  one  as 
good." 

Eventually  the  appointment  with  Farnham  was  obtained 
through  Rutherford's  intercession,  for  he  had  turned  the 
piece  down  once  and  considered  it  bad  business  to  let  himself 
in  for  further  discussion  of  it.  The  hour  was  set  for  sev- 
eral days  ahead,  and  in  the  meantime  Jerry  systematically 
put  his  house  of  ideas  in  order,  while  Joan  conserved  her 
physical  resources  as  jealously  as  an  athlete  about  to  run 
a  race.  Jerry,  who  watched  her  with  tender  admiration, 
was  moved  to  make  a  suggestion. 

"  Little  Joan,  you  must  buy  yourself  something  beautiful 
to  wear.  It  isn't  extravagance,  it's  simply  mortgaging  our 
prospects." 

"  I  should  not  know  what  to  buy,"  she  countered. 

"  You  would  know  right  enough,"  he  refused  to  be  hood- 
winked. "  You  would  find  yourself  something  quietly  ele- 
gant, such  as  you  used  to  wear  when  your  father  was  alive. 
If  you  do,  I  shall  be  immensely  proud,  and,  I  declare,  if  you 
don't,  I  shall  be  distinctly  angry  with  you." 

"But— Jerry " 

"  No  '  buts/  my  dear." 

Her  eyes  had  taken  on  a  film  of  dreams,  for  with  his 
words  the  old,  stifled  impulses  had  rushed  back,  the  dictator, 
beauty,  crying  to  her  youth  for  expression.  In  the  past  six 
months  she  had  grown  shabby,  as  far  as  one  of  her  innate 
daintiness  could  ever  justify  the  adjective,  and  now,  at 
Jerr\^'s  recognition  of  the  sacrifice,  she  seemed  to  feel  herself 
suddenly  in  tatters.  Nevertheless  he  argued  long  before  he 
could  reconcile  her  conscience  to  the  expenditure.  But 
once  she  had  acceded  she  disappeared  for  an  entire  day  and 
forsook  the  lower  realms  of  the  city  for  the  shopping  dis- 
trict of  the  6ihe.  There  she  enjoyed  an  old-time  feminine 
orgy  of  buying,  there  she  watched  her  drab  garments  fall 


2/8  BLIND  WISDOM 

away  for  the  lure  of  satin,  that  flattered  her  supple  figure 
as  the  compliments  of  the  saleswomen  flowed  like  honey 
round  her  heart.  And  for  once  she  forgot  to  wonder  what 
Ballou  would  have  thought  of  her.  She  was  consecrating 
herself  only  to  the  struggle  for  Jerry's  success. 

The  momentous  day  when  Rutherford  and  Jerry  stood 
waiting  in  the  big  studio  below,  she  stole  from  her  little 
room  resplendent,  and  descended  with  a  mien  of  hauteur  that 
won  the  applause  of  her  appreciative  audience. 

But  once  between  them  she  saw  only  Jerry's  expression 
that  cried  aloud  in  its  dumbness.  He  said  nothing,  while 
Rutherford  poured  his  compliments  upon  her,  yet  deep  in 
her  heart  nestled  the  sense  of  triumph.  They  took  the 
'bus  to  Fortieth  Street,  rejoicing  in  the  auspicious  bright- 
ness of  the  day.  Behind  each  plate  glass  bloomed  a  garden 
of  spring  millinery,  the  windows  of  the  Waldorf  and  other 
caravanserais  along  the  Avenue  were  picked  out  with 
pansies,  mountain  daisies,  and  geraniums,  pink  as  the  cheeks 
of  country  maidens.  Thorley's  flower  shop  was  still 
reminiscent  of  Easter,  and  where  the  long  vista  of  the  Ave- 
nue melted  to  shadows  opalescent  sunlight  lured  with  its 
dream  of  the  beyond. 

They  looked  upon  the  heads  of  the  suave  women  and  the 
dapper  men  on  the  sidewalks,  wondering  if  any  of  them 
hung  over  the  cliff  of  eventuality.  And  yet  there  was  some- 
thing fascinating  about  this  imminence  of  fortune  or  dis- 
aster. Joan  perceived  that  in  all  her  facile  years  of  girlhood 
she  had  never  known  so  much  as  one  tonic  breath  of  the 
conflict.  As  she  visualized  the  scene  that  lay  ahead  of 
them,  she  felt  drunk  with  potential  power,  she  played  with 
her  sensations  like  an  inebriate.  It  was  not  until  they  had 
gained  the  sanctum  of  the  big  man  that  she  found  herself 
in  the  grip  of  reality,  and  obliged  to  admit  the  possibility  of 
failure.    As  they  took  seats  in  the  aotechamber  of  Fam- 


JOAN  AND  JERRY,  ALLIES  279 

ham's  famous  study  on  the  floor  above  his  theatre,  Joan 
fastened  her  eyes  upon  Jerry.  She  told  herself  that  whether 
he  ascended  the  ladder  of  success  or  stood  still  he  was  a 
genius.  .  .  .  Famham  must  recognize  him  as  such. 
At  length  their  turn  came  and  she  rose,  trembling  in  her 
pretty  frock,  and  minus  every  whit  of  the  gay  audacity  she 
had  intended  to  use  for  his  vanquishment.  Upon  Jerry  and 
Rutherford,  after  all,  must  depend  the  failure  or  success  of 
the  venture.  She  now  felt  herself  negligible,  a  mere  trailer 
in  their  masculine  wake,  and  her  mental  attitude  must  have 
affected  the  producer,  for  after  a  few  courteous  words  he 
seemed  scarcely  to  see  her. 

The  man  himself  was  large  and  ivory-pallid  in  coloring, 
as  befitted  the  presiding  figure  of  that  dim  background. 
His  was  a  somewhat  dissipated  and  world-weary  face,  but 
etched  with  the  unmistakable  lines  of  ability.  His  eyes 
were  gray  with  flecks  of  some  warm  color  in  them,  and  half 
hidden  as  they  were  under  the  thick,  overlapping  lids,  they 
yet  held  a  look  of  keen  omniscience,  an  unerring  sense  of 
values.  Such  a  man  would  see  to  the  backbone  of  what- 
ever lay  before  him  and  no  counterfeit  could  hope  to  escape 
his  condemnation.  As  an  instance  of  genius  recognizing 
genius,  the  story  was  told  that,  thirty  years  before,  he  had 
been  manager  of  a  cheap  road  company,  stone-broke  and 
stranded  somewhere  in  the  state  of  Oregon.  The  company 
was  in  a  state  of  near-mutiny,  and  all  Famham's  efforts  to 
pour  oil  on  the  troubled  waters  met  with  failure.  "  I'll  go 
to  the  railroad  offices,"  he  had  the  effrontery  to  promise, 
"  and  talk  them  into  giving  us  transportation  home,"  and 
much  to  their  surprise  he  made  good  the  promise.  He  was 
simply  a  poor  young  man  with  no  backing  and  hardly  a  sou 
in  the  pocket  of  his  jeans,  but  his  personality  spelled  magic. 
At  the  end  of  a  half  hour  the  local  manager  had  given  him, 
without   security,   a   thousand  dollars'  worth   of  railroad 


28o  BLIND  WISDOM 

transportation.  "If  he's  not  straight,  I'll  never  pick  an^ 
other,"  the  then  obscure  railroad  man  justified  his  seem- 
ingly ill-advised  deed.  But  Famham  was  straight,  and  the 
man  with  the  perception  to  see  it  eventually  rose  to  be 
president  of  the  largest  line  west  of  the  Mississippi. 

While  Rutherford  talked,  Joan's  gaze  escaped  into  the 
deeper  fastnesses  of  the  room,  the  scene  of  so  much  dramatic 
history.  The  only  daylight  was  translated  by  a  ground- 
glass  window  high  up  next  the  ceiling,  so  that  even  April 
appeared  as  the  ghost  of  itself.  For  the  rest  she  saw  low 
bookcases  following  the  walls  on  every  side,  mellow  with 
books,  and,  on  the  shelf  formed  by  the  top  of  these,  nebulous 
bits  of  statuary,  sketches  of  celebrities  and  the  miniature 
settings  of  old  plays. 

She  came  back  to  the  discourse  with  a  start.  It  seemed 
to  her  that  her  well-intentioned  brother-in-law,  Rutherford, 
was  speaking  very  ineffectually,  and  that  Farnham's 
omniscient  eyes  were  weighing  and  discarding  much  that 
he  said.  Then  Jerry  took  up  the  case  of  his  own  play  with 
greater  authority,  but  with  a  dignity  that  precluded  the  pos- 
sibility of  sweeping  the  other  off  his  feet.  If  only  Famham 
could  have  been  a  fly  on  the  wall  during  those  gorgeous  three 
hours  when  Jerry,  Rutherford  and  she  had  constituted  the 
perfect  whole,  Jerry  the  author,  Joan  the  interpreter,  and 
Ridgely  the  sensitive  audience ! 

As  Jerry  warred  in  grim  earnestness  against  the  destruc- 
tive interruptions  of  his  listener,  Joan  felt  more  and  more 
acutely  that  she  could  not  bear  It.  At  this  rate,  they  would 
never  win  him  over,  they  had  not  even  produced  in  him 
the  desire  to  be  convinced !  Suddenly  she  came  out  of  her 
obscurity,  just  as  a  figure  in  low  relief  might  evolve  into 
a  statue,  if  such  a  thing  were  possible.  Farnham,  who  had 
seen  her  only  as  a  flat  adjunct  to  the  conversation,  per- 
ceived all  at  once  that  she  had  the  three  dimensions,  length, 


JOAN  AND  JERRY,  ALLIES  281 

breadth  and  thickness,  also  a  voice  of  natural  culture  that 
was  as  balm  to  his  overstrained  nerves.  He  wished  that 
some  of  his  stars  with  other  qualifications  might  learn  to 
enunciate  in  that  same  charming  manner,  giving  loving 
recognition  to  each  syllable.  In  America,  where  the  voice 
was  invariably  left  in  a  state  of  au  naturel,  it  was  a  delight 
to  discover  one  of  silver  softness.  Preoccupied  with  the 
thought,  he  paid  no  heed  at  first  to  the  context  of  her 
speech.  But  those  disturbing  eyes  came  at  him,  thrust  back 
his  shoulders  and  made  him  listen. 

Once  launched,  she  became  wholly  unself-conscious.  Not 
only  was  she  arguing  eloquently  for  Jerry  Callendar,  the 
man  she  believed  in,  she  was  also  pleading  for  the  right  of 
that  hypothetical  character,  Peter,  to  be  allowed  to  live. 
That  great  gift  which  was  his  to  bestow  in  the  play  became 
literally  a  treasure  awaiting  the  world. 

When  she  came  to  those  major  parts  that  she  wished  to 
emphasize,  she  did  just  what  Rutherford  had  hoped  she 
would  do,  acted  them  out,  yet  in  so  natural  a  manner 
that  not  one  of  them  could  have  told  when  she  left  her 
chair. 

She  was  wise  enough  not  to  overdo  her  climax ;  she  ended 
as  suddenly  as  she  had  begun,  and,  sinking  back  once  more, 
her  radiance  went  out  as  a  star  recedes  in  a  thick  sky.  But 
Farnham  had  developed  an  appetite  for  her;  figuratively 
speaking,  he  pursued,  charmed  and  provoked  that  she  would 
give  neither  more  of  herself  nor  this  unique  Peter  who  had 
spoken  through  her  lips. 

A  little  color  had  crept  into  his  sagging  cheeks  and  he  had 
ceased  to  play  with  his  paper-knife  while  he  concentrated 
upon  her.  But  Joan  kept  demure  silence.  And  at  last  he 
said  quite  simply: 

"  There's  a  great  little  actress  lost  in  you,  Mrs.  Callendar^ 
Have  you  ever  thought  seriously  about  the  stage?" 


2S3  BLIND  WISDOM 

"  Good  Lordp  no,"  Jenj  cat;  in  for  her,  and  die  older  man 


"Evidendf  joorlnidband  is  ^paDcd  at  die  notion.  How- 
CTcr,  jou'Te  nmcfa  latent  abifil^  in  tliat  Erection.'' 

"Tbank  yon,"  dbe  said  £aindy,  "and  now  won't  joa 
pkase  s^  that  jon  fike  the  nev  ¥cnioa  of '  Tbe  Gicat  Gift,' 
diat  it^s  wiHtli  goiuig  on  »iUi?" 

The  notPtioDsl^  diflirnlt  man  loohed  from  one  to  the  next 
of  dioae  eager  faces  and  a  slow  smile  ilhmiincd  lus  fzce. 

"  Allogtiher  jroi^Te  pot  it  over  rather  neatly.  T^cs,  I  con- 
fess tibat  die  idea  b  iiiincsling;  Ws  filoe  all  sndi  pbjs^  an 
innoi^atian^  a  gircat  gnnble,  a.  tiddish  business^  bat  worth. 
Ujing.  I  fike  some  of  Petals  line^  that  one, — '  Fm  neither 
an  bladic  nor  an  ^dute—rmfikeodier  people,  gray!'  Now, 
see  hef^  CaOendar,  yon  can't  csqiect  me  to  boy  a  pig  in  a 
poke.  I  never  oomnnt  myself  tin  my  head  goes  nnder  the 
cantracl;  bol^  in  the  same  ^oiiJ^  I  sddom  offer  advice  nnless 
I  am  sdfisiily  iiiinrstrd  in  seeing  it  bear  fntiL  '  The  ^y's 
diediing'inmynnnd — die  author  matters  as  fittle  to  me  as 
he  does  to  tbe  andimrr  In  diis  case  I  may  freety  say  I 
shaU  be  ■■!■■«  ■^■■'l  to  see  how  the  dung  frames  i^  My  ad- 
vice b  to  go  CO  with  it;  Fd  h^  yon  as  soon  as  the  next  man 
if  yon  ooidd  briqg  me  what  I  wanL  Take  die  ^l^llnlnc^  to 
rewrite— peihaps  yoofU  do  it  sooner.  It  aU  depends  on  how 
easily  yon  woik.  Bat  idien  yoif  re  dnoog^  give  me  a  look 
at  iL  I  bdBevc  dat  yonr  wife  m^  prove  inestimable  as  a 
critic* 

"She  has  abeaify  done  so^  Mr.  Faraham,"  said  Jerry 
qmcUty. 

He  rose  as  Famham  ^gnififd  qiricdy  diat  Ins  time  Emit 
was  reached. 

"  I  can  wdD  bcfieve  iL    Bean^  and  brains  are  a  rare  com- 
Ixnation.    Yoa  are  indeed  to  be  cougiatahtcd,  Callendar. 
He  hdd  oat  his  hand  to  Joan.    "  Good-aftemooo,  Mrs.  Cal- 


JOAN  AND  JERRY,  ALLIES  283 

lendar.  Well,  Ridge," — he  clapped  a  powerful  hand  on 
Rutherford's  shoulder, — "what  are  you  alter,  ambitious 
scamp  ?  Are  yoa  wanting  merely  your  friend's  triunq^  or 
do  you  fancy  you  might  skm  into  his  hero's  role?"  He 
shook  his  grizzled  head.  "  Couldn't  be  done ;  you  lo(dc  too 
well  fed  for  the  mystic,  the  saint.  You're  too  recently  mar- 
ried, too  complacent,  too  essentially  the  matinee  idoL" 

"  Hang  it,  thafs  what  you  always  say,"  fretted  Rntfier- 
ford  in  real  exasperation.  "  You've  got  each  of  us  nmning 
in  a  certain  groove  and  yoa  won't  let  us  get  out  It's  deadi 
to  ambition ! " 

"  Nonsense,  your  romantic  roles  never  fail  to  draw  ati£- 
ences.    It's  good  business,  toy  lad." 

**  Perhaps,  but  damned  poor  art." 

"Oh,"  said  Joan,  turning  a  delicious  face,  all  innooent 
provocation,  "don't  you  think  he  could  do  Peter?  Why, 
just  that  minute  he  had  Peter's  look  of  a  prophet  in  his  eye." 

"  Let  us  go  home  and  dine  royally,"  cried  Joan  gaily  once 
they  were  abroad  ag^n  in  the  late  afternoon.  "  I'm  inspired 
to  cook  celestial  dishes  for  the  two  of  you.  Men  are  never 
nice  unless  fed  Jeny-,  I  do  beUevc  the  day  will  come  when 
all  the  apartments  are  piped  for  beer." 

Callendar  and  Rutherford  laughed  like  a  couple  of 
boys. 

**  Oh,  this  dinner  is  on  me,"  declared  the  yxmng  actor  y/nA 
mock  braggadocio,  "  and  there's  no  end  to  what  I'm  pre- 
pared to  do.  What's  the  use  saving  for  a  good  funeral 
when  the  town  will  bury  you  ?  Well  ring  up  Qaire,  tdl  her 
Jerry  has  gotten  his  chance  as  sure  as  God  made  littie  fishes. 
Well  let  her  come  and  drink  to  his  stroke  o'  genius." 

"  You  f  oi^t,"  put  in  Jerry  drily,  **  that  *  there's  no  sudi 
thing  as  a  stroke  of  genius.  There  are  only  flashes  of  horse 
sense.* " 

"  At  any  rate,"  cried  Joan  between  them,  as  lovely  as  a 


284  BLIND  WISDOM 

Gloire  de  Dijon  rose,  "  I'm  so  happy  I  could  dance  and  touch 
my  toe  to  the  stars !  " 

"  We'll  have  to  call  you  *  Twinkletoes,'  "  Rutherford  sug- 
gested lightly. 

But  Jerry  inexplicably  suppressed  a  shiver,  as  one  is  said 
to  do  when  another  treads  on  his  grave. 

"  Call  her  anything,"  he  said  roughly,  "  but  that ! " 


CHAPTER  XXVII 
A  MIDSUMMER'S  NIGHT 

Upon  the  helpless  thousands  marooned  in  the  city  dawned 
the  hottest  summer  on  record.  For  days  at  a  time  the 
humid  heat  curled  in  sickening  waves  along  the  sulphurous 
streets,  striking  down  the  least  fit  where  it  found  them. 
Now  and  then  a  beast  of  burden,  tortured  beyond  endurance, 
was  mercifully  released,  falling  onto  its  side  and  becoming 
incredibly  stiff  and  inanimate.  In  the  parks  forlorn  human- 
ity lolled,  fed,  fanned  itself,  fainted  and  slept.  In  the  shops 
business  grew  dull  through  sheer  lassitude,  all  save  the  drug 
stores  that  poured  their  tons  of  sirupy  beverages  down  mil- 
lions of  desperate  throats.  There  was  something  demoraliz- 
ing about  these  long  periods  of  heat.  Indoors  furniture  and 
other  objects  emitted  as  many  different  musty  odors,  and 
even  the  Indian  rugs  in  Jerry's  apartment  remembered  when 
they  were  on  the  looms  in  Navajo  adobes  and  called  forth 
the  odor  of  old  cookery.  The  canary  in  the  window  oppo- 
site sat  on  its  sticky  perch  without  the  inspiration  of  a  song. 
Joan's  terrier,  Dennis,  grew  old  in  ennui  and  lay  all  day 
hunting  hopelessly  for  a  flea. 

Toward  sunset  the  West  Side  of  the  city  bathed  and 
dressed  and  motored  forth  for  air.  But  the  East  Side  swel- 
tered without  relief,  an  ice  famine  was  threatened  and  al- 
ready the  babies  were  dying.  One  had  only  to  look  across 
Fourth  Avenue  to  see  the  heat  like  a  scourge  along  the 
streets. 


286  BLIND  WISDOM 

Godfrey  fia'd  sent  Agnes  and  the  babies  to  the  mountains ; 
Qaire  and  Ridgely  were  at  the  shore ;  Joan  read  of  Bret  at 
Southampton,  at  Piping  Rock  and  Newport.  But,  although 
Jerry  threatened  and  besought  her,  she  would  not  leave 
town.  From  the  garden  at  home  her  mother  sent  them 
weekly  great  boxes  of  fresh  vegetables,  while  Lishaby  sent 
sheaves  of  old-fashioned  flowers  from  her  tiny  plot  and  as- 
sured her  darling  child  that  all  "  the  others  wanted  to  come, 
but  couldn't  walk."  Joan  made  the  studio  as  inviting  as  she 
could  those  trying  days  and  often  thrust  her  face  into  the 
cool  blossoms  for  comfort.  "  It's  the  only  time  I've  ever 
known  flowers  to  have  the  right  smell  in  New  York,"  she 
told  Jerry  whimsically. 

But,  aside  from  the  heat,  the  extent  to  which  she  had  en- 
joyed herself  was  significant.  She  and  Jerry  now  worked 
almost  continuously  together,  and  their  long  arguments  and 
discussions  anent  the  play  led  them  into  by-channels  of  read- 
ing that  sometimes  lasted  well  into  the  night.  They  skimmed 
(perforce  superficially)  the  prophets  from  Buddha  to 
Nietzsche  and  Freud,  they  played  with  biology,  theology, 
psychology,  and  pseudo-analysis  with  a  view  to  delving 
deeper  later  on ;  now  and  then  they  would  have  a  playwright 
to  dinner  and  talk  the  craft  with  radiant  hopefulness.  And 
wheresoever  they  went  or  whatever  they  did  they  discovered 
new  rich  fields  of  human  interest  and  speculation.  So,  all 
in  all,  it  was  a  rather  wonderful  thing  they  had  made  out  of 
the  lifeless  days  in  the  deserted  city. 

After  the  arduous  hours  when  the  three,  for  Lily  Gray 
had  once  more  been  pressed  into  service,  had  worked  at 
their  self-appointed  task,  and  Lily  had  gone  home,  Joan  and 
Jerry  would  sometimes  take  the  ferry  to  Staten  Island  for 
tonic  relaxation,  and  while  the  pleasure-starved  children  of 
the  city  danced,  perspired  and  rioted  under  the  lights  they 
^ould  be  alone  at  the  stem,  watching  the  gulls  tumble  and 


A  MIDSUMMER'S  NIGHT  287 

soar  in  their  wake,  or  far  up  at  the  bow  would  rest  their  eyes 
on  the  silver-gray  monotone  of  water  and  the  undefined  mass 
of  the  approaching  land,  like  a  Whistler  nocturne. 

Another  night  they  had  a  yet  cooler  thought.  They  would 
sail  far  down  the  harbor  to  Atlantic  Highland !  From  the 
inferno  of  the  subway  they  ascended,  only  to  stimible  over 
the  sprawling  figures  in  Battery  Park,  like  so  many  bunches 
of  old  clothes.  Joan  never  forgot  that  hectic  scene  of  the 
summer  night. 

"  Look  at  them,"  said  Jerry,  "  They  swarm ;  humanity 
is  cheaper  than  anything  else,  after  all,  poor,  loving,  breath- 
ing, suffering  atoms.  One  would  scarcely  realize,  they 
scarcely  know  themselves,  that  they  are  divine ! " 

At  the  dock  near  by  waited  the  pleasure  boats,  great, 
coarse  Leviathans,  each  with  a  thousand  eyes,  holding  its 
sides  with  laughter,  self-advertising  as  a  courtesan.  Already 
the  feverish  dancing  had  begun,  and  the  decks  presented  an 
appearance  of  reckless  gaiety,  the  dresses  of  the  girls  waving 
like  colored  rags.  In  the  ominous,  lead-dark  night  this  mad 
greed  for  pleasure  was  almost  frightful. 

"  Each  boat  could  spill  its  cargo  in  the  harbor,"  mused 
Jerry,  "  and  next  time  there  would  be  as  large  a  one  to  take 
out  with  it.    Always  fools  like " 

"  Ourselves  ?  "  supplied  Joan  mischievously. 

"  Yes,  only  we  know  that  we  are  fools  and  therefore  we 
are  wiser  than  they." 

"  Buy  your  tickets  for  the  Mandalay ! "  bawled  an  agent 
at  the  gate. 

"  Yes,  hurry,  Jim,"  begged  a  girl's  nasal  voice  close  by. 
"  Fm  jest  crazy  to  be  dancin'.  Oh,  man,  oh,  boy.  Using  to 
that  tune." 

Joan  involuntarily  put  her  hand  on  Jerry's  arm,  feeling 
happily  akin  to  them  all.  She,  too,  was  pleasure-seeking 
with  a  pal.    They  found  seats  on  the  outer  rim  of  the 


288  BLIND  WISDOM 

dancing  deck,  and  welcomed  the  cool  caress  of  the  air  when 
the  boat  had  left  the  Battery  behind.  For  a  long  time  there 
was  the  jeweled  traffic  of  the  harbor  to  intrigue  them,  ferry- 
boats, squat  and  sturdy,  plowing  a  straight  furrow, 
freighters,  muffled  in  mystery,  the  grim  pyramid  of  a  battle- 
ship, or  the  lithe  lines  of  a  yacht,  and  Liberty  picked  out  in 
a  clean  swathe  of  pale  blue  light 

"  I've  never  seen  it  quite  like  that  before,**  reflected  Jerry, 
who  was  ever  discriminating  in  his  praise.  "  How  does  it 
make  you  feel,  Joan?  '* 

"  Like  weeping,"  she  answered  unexpectedly.  "  I  agree 
with  Oscar  Wilde  when  he  said  that  beauty,  not  sorrow, 
brings  tears  to  the  eyes.'* 

Gradually  the  lights  grew  less,  the  sense  of  expanse 
greater,  an  almost  cold  breeze  swept  in  from  the  sea ;  even 
the  noise  about  them  was  blurred  by  the  unconscious  will 
with  which  they  put  it  from  them.  They  ceased  to  speak. 
Underneath,  the  water  grew  whelming  and  the  boat  com- 
muned closely  with  it,  rising  and  falling  with  a  sound  of 
secret  ecstasy.  Joan  saw  suddenly  that  Jerry  was  asleep  in 
his  chair.  His  coat  had  fallen  slightly  open  and  just  under 
the  thin  shirt  his  heart  rose  and  fell  evenly.  His  face  looked 
weary  and  relaxed,  singularly  defenseless.  It  occurred  to 
her  that  not  even  since  their  marriage  had  she  ever  seen  him 
so,  and  something  maternal  stirred  in  her.  She  remembered 
a  poem  that  had  appealed  to  her  and  which  she  had  recently 
learned. 

"  When  my  beloved  sleeping  lies 
I  cannot  look  at  him  for  tears. 
Such  mournful  peace  is  on  kis  eyes. 

A  look  of  lonely  death  he  wears. 
And  graven  very  calm  and  deep 
Lie  all  the  sorrows  of  old  years. 


A  MIDSUMMER'S  NIGHT  289 

He  is  so  passionless  in  sleep. 

With  all  his  strength  relaxed  to  rest; 

I  cannot  see  him  and  not  weep. 

For  weakness  life  has  not  confessed 

And  shadowed  scars  of  old  mistakes, 

I  take  his  head  upon  my  breast 

And  hold  my  dearest  till  he  wakes.    .    .    .** 

Joan  bent  nearer  in  mute  fascination,  drew  the  coat  to- 
gether and  buttoned  it  over  the  exposed  chest.  She  was 
immensely  absorbed  by  the  action.  She  thought  of  his 
mother  who  had  loved  him  with  tender  imagination  and  of 
the  irate  old  man  in  Washington  Square  whose  love  was  of 
the  Spartan  kind.  "  He  shall  sing  a  different  tune  very 
shortly,"  she  reflected,  "  when  Jerry's  play  is  put  on  and  his 
future  assured."  Her  hand  lingered  with  frail  protective- 
ness  on  the  rough  fabric  of  his  coat.  Dear  Jerry,  how  good 
he  had  been  to  her !  She  was  conscious  of  no  disloyalty  to 
Bret,  who  was  waiting,  but  she  hoped,  with  a  pang,  that 
when  she  went  she  would  leave  Jerry  well  established  and 
without  bitterness  for  her  going;  she  hoped  that  he  would 
not  mind  so  very  much.  And,  because  hers  was  the  kind  of 
nature  that  will  permit  of  no  foggy  compromise,  she  sought 
to  spell  out  clearly  their  relationship.  "  We  are  like  brother 
and  sister,"  she  decided  happily  at  last. 

All  at  once  Jerry  stirred  and  woke  to  find  himself  looking 
directly  into  her  eyes.  It  was  almost  as  though  in  his  dream 
he  had  caught  the  drift  of  her  thought,  for  he  looked  at  her 
expectantly  and  with  a  new  restlessness. 

"  You  fell  asleep,"  she  stammered  stupidly.  "  You  were 
quite  exhausted !  "  , 

He  did  not  answer,  only  his  eyes  dwelt  upon  the  foolish, 
amorous  figures  of  boys  and  girls,  dancing,  spooning,  drows- 
ing in  corners,  rallying  one  another  with  cheerful  vulgarity. 
His  inward  gesture  was  one  of  violent  protest.    Why  must 


290  BLIND  WISDOM 

they  be  like  this  in  public,  flaunting  their  elemental  natures 
naively  ?  He  felt  a  new  and  odd  intolerance — or  was  it  only 
envy?  After  all,  they  were  honest  and  unperverted — the 
norm !  It  was  he,  with  his  sterile  unselfishness,  that  culture 
had  despoiled,  and  he  alternated  between  disgust  for  him- 
self and  for  them,  arguing  each  side  with  a  lawyer's  imper- 
sonal acumen.  He  did  not  look  at  Joan  now,  but  he  was 
intensely  aware  of  her,  relaxed  in  the  chair  beside  him,  her 
luminous  pale  face  soft  with  the  night's  enchantment,  and 
the  lament  of  a  dead  man  from  Spoon  River  Anthology  kept 
hammering  in  his  brain : 

"  I  would  I  had  thrust  my  hands  of  flesh 
Into  the  disk-flowers  bee-infested. 
Into  the  mirror-like  core  of  fire 
Of  the  light  of  life,  the  sun  of  delight.    .    .    . 

4c  *  41  *  *  *  « 

All  is  yours,  young  passer-by; 
Enter  the  banquet  room  with  the  thought,    s    r    . 

******  iii 

LrCave  no  balconies  where  you  can  climb. 
Nor  milk-white  bosoms  where  you  can  rest.    .    .    .** 

"  No,  no,"  he  rebelled,  for  he  was  the  kind  of  man  "  who 
made  every  thought  stop  on  the  threshold  of  his  brain  and 
wipe  its  feet,"  "  too  much  work  must  be  breaking  down  my 
fibre."    But  still  irresistibly  the  vivid  words  rang  on: 

*'  You  will  die  no  doubt  but  die  while  living 
In  depth  of  azure,  rapt  and  mated. 
Kissing  the  queen-bee,  Life ! " 

It  was  midnight  when  they  reached  home,  and  over  the 
city  the  portentous  sky  was  hoarse  with  rumbling.  In  the 
stifling  hall  Jerry  put  a  hand  under  Joan's  elbow  to  help  her 
climb.  She  had  removed  her  hat  on  the  way  up  and  when 
they  reached  the  studio  she  ran  a  hand  through  the  damp 


A  MIDSUMMER'S  NIGHT  291 

hair  on  her  forehead  that  was  breaking  into  curls.  Jerry 
had  been  strangely  unsociable  the  latter  part  of  the  evening, 
almost  uncivil,  in  fact,  but  she  supposed  that  he  was  tired. 
Now,  no  sooner  had  they  thrown  themselves  into  chairs  than 
the  thunder  came  crashing  into  the  room  like  a  surly  giant. 
.  .  .  Gne  discovery  he  had  yet  to  make  was  that  Joan 
feared  above  all  things  an  electrical  storm.  A  psycho- 
analyst might  have  ferreted  out  the  root  of  her  obsession, 
since  it  was,  indeed,  the  result  of  childish  fright, — a  certain 
impression  of  disaster  stamped  upon  the  retina  of  her  young 
brain  and  refusing  to  be  erased.  At  the  age  of  five  she  had 
been  awakened  in  the  night  by  old  Lishaby,  who  hastily 
wrapped  the  three  children  in  shawls  and  led  them  out  into 
the  wild,  wet  night.  A  wing  of  the  house  had  been  struck 
by  lightning  and  the  roof  belched  flame.  The  thunder  had 
laughed  its  mockery  upon  the  terrified  family  and  the  evil 
lightning  had  continued  to  dart  down  and  reach  for  them. 
Joan  in  Lishaby's  arms  had  wept  bitterly. 

Now,  with  the  first  ominous  crash,  she  opened  her  lips  to 
tell  Jerry,  but  regretted  the  cowardly  impulse. 

"  No,  I'll  be  a  soldier  and  stand  it  as  long  as  I  can." 

A  breath  of  air  came  through  the  open  window  that 
smelled  suffocatingly  of  dust.  The  street  presented  an  un- 
canny, non-committal  appearance,  deserted  and  darkly  yel- 
low ;  freed  of  human  association,  it  had  ceased  to  be  identi- 
fied with  time.  It  was  inconceivable  that  behind  other  win- 
dows people  slept,  talked  or  lay  awake.  Joan  experienced 
the  ridiculous  feeling  that  only  she  and  Jerry  of  all  the  city 
kept  vigil.  It  was  like  being  alone  in  a  doomed  country,  left 
stranded  in  Pompeii  before  the  lava  flowed  in. 

"I  thought  we'd  get  it,"  said  Jerry  shortly.  "Thank 
God,  there'll  be  relief  on  that  score ! " 

Joan  said  nothing,  only  sat  watching  with  sick  fascination 
the  play  of  lightning  outside  the  windows,  yellow  and  tricky 


292  BLIND  WISDOM 

as  the  faces  of  Chinamen  peering  in.  A  second  clap  set  the 
walls  to  muttering ;  the  wind  gave  a  hoarse  screech  and  with 
sinister  caprice  sent  a  vase  shattering  to  the  floor.  As  Jerry 
moved  to  the  window  he  heard  a  suppressed  sound  behind 
him,  and  felt  Joan  following  closely. 

"  You  know — I'm — I  don't  like  it  a  bit,"  was  her  feminine 

apology.    "  In  fact — I "   she  laughed  imsuccessfuUy. 

"  I'm  rather  a  goose  about  thunder-storms." 

"  There's  nothing  to  fear,"  he  threw  back,  wrestling  with 
the  window  that  had  swollen  in  the  frame. 

"  But  this  one  will  be  dreadful.  Oh,  listen,  it  sounds  as 
if  the  whole  city  is  toppling." 

"  The  city  has  survived  many  a  storm,  you  must  remem- 
ber. If  you  prefer,  I'll  draw  the  shade,"  he  added,  when, 
like  a  cataclysm,  the  sky  seemed  to  cave  in  upon  them. 

Simultaneously  with  that  implied  blow,  the  lights  went 
out  and  oblivion  closed  over  them  like  the  rush  of  dark 
waters.  He  heard  a  shrill  scream  and  fumbled  for  Joan; 
then  all  at  once  she  hurled  herself  into  his  arms  with  such 
force  that  for  a  minute  he  could  scarcely  breathe.  Her 
arms  fastened  about  his  body  with  a  deadly  grip,  the  top  of 
her  head  was  pressed  just  beneath  his  chin,  and  he  felt  her 
heart  like  a  trip-hammer  against  his  side.  Crash  after  crash 
rolled  over  their  heads  in  the  thick  darkness  while  they  re- 
mained in  that  frantic  embrace. 

Her  heart  continued  to  race  and  Jerry's  quickened  in  cor- 
relation with  it,  though  he  had  forgotten  the  raison  d'etre  of 
the  situation.  He  only  knew  that  by  some  miracle  he  was 
realizing  all  that  she  was  and  had  been  to  him.  Brain,  body, 
spirit,  was  there  aught  of  her  that  he  did  not  love?  And 
since  he  had  denied  and  denied  his  love  and  hidden  it  away 
in  self-abnegation,  here  was  Heaven,  here  was  nature,  com- 
pelling reprisal,  forcing  this  cosmic  rapture  of  the  truth. 
What  was  he  about  that  he  did  not  take  her  and  keep  her 


A  MIDSUMMER'S  NIGHT  293 

inexorably  by  the  right  of  possession  of  his  love?  But  the 
tortured  saint  in  him  would  not  quite  yield  to  nature's  impor- 
tuning. "  She  doesn't  love  me,"  it  agonized  deeply.  "  If 
she  loved  me,  she  wouldn't  be  here  in  my  arms  now,  without 
any  sort  of  consciousness."  "  Then  make  her  love  you," 
the  vigorous  voice  spoke  on. 

But  were  he  to  lay  siege  to  her  heart  the  new  attitude 
would  mean  that  he  must  go  unarmored,  and  in  case  of 
failure  he  might  as  well  throw  himself  into  the  discard. 
Jerry,  at  thirty-seven,  was  infinitely  more  guarded  than  a 
youth  of  twenty-five  would  have  been.  In  some  strange 
way  he  knew  his  own  potential  capacity  for  suffering.  "  No, 
I  will  do  neither,  God  help  me,"  he  resolved.  "  I'll  be  the 
master  of  my  fate,  and  the  captain  of  my  soul." 

Shaw  says  that  the  impulse  to  give  inspires  no  affection 
unless  there  is  also  the  power  to  withhold. 

But  still,  as  the  delicious  peril  held  them  there  in  the 
darkness,  her  weakness  dependent  on  his  strength,  he  ached 
with  tenderness.  The  contour  of  her  cheek  fitted  to  the 
hollow  of  his  neck  and  her  hair  emanated  a  something 
fainter  than  fragrance  that  yet  intoxicated  him.  He  only 
knew  that  when  he  sought  to  lift  clear  of  his  complex  joy  he 
suffered  an  agony  of  denial.  Perspiration  bedewed  his 
brow  and  that  characteristic  vein  down  his  forehead  must 
have  distended  with  the  struggle.  It  was  through  the  very 
sweat  and  blood  of  character  that  he  achieved  his  release. 

The  fitful  light  now  saw  him  cold  and  stiff  as  a  man  of 
stone,  his  arms  hanging  at  his  sides,  immovable,  with  the  girl 
clinging  about  his  body.  Outside,  great,  chilly  drops  of  rain 
flashed  by  the  window,  and  the  roofs  and  gutter  began  a 
loud  Te  Deum.  Still  the  thunder  sounded,  intermittently, 
like  the  echoes  of  a  Titanic  game  of  ninepins. 

"  Oh,  Jerry,"  wailed  Joan  with  returning  poise,  "  what  a 
coward  I  am !    How  terrible  it  has  been !  " 


294  BLIND  WISDOM 

"  I  have  never  known  worse,"  he  answered  in  a  devitalized 
voice. 

She  missed  the  support  of  his  arms  and  her  own  relaxed 
instinctively.  But  she  had  not  been  altogether  sincere,  per- 
haps. Out  of  her  terror  some  sweet  sense  of  security  re- 
mained. 

"  Hadn't  you  better  go  to  bed  now  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  let  me  stay  with  you  a  little  longer."  She 
moved  away  and  he  was  stricken  by  the  loss  of  her ;  he  felt 
old,  impoverished,  dead. 

Gradually  the  storm  subsided  and  a  few  solemn  stars 
heralded  the  dawn.  As  Joan  dragged  herself  toward  the 
stairway  her  eyes  lingered  on  Jerry's  haggard  face;  like  a 
closed  door  it  baffled  her. 

"  The  battle  is  over,"  she  sighed  with  a  faint  smile. 

"  The  battle  is  won,"  he  answered  cryptically. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 
"THE  GREAT  GIFT'» 

October  found  the  Callendars  in  the  situation  of  their 
ambitious  dreams.  Jerry's  play,  "  The  Great  Gift,"  was 
daily  being  rehearsed  with  the  prospect  of  early  presenta- 
tion. Farnham  had  succumbed  in  a  splendid,  if  rueful, 
manner. 

"  It  isn't  the  kind  of  piece  I  planned  to  put  on  this  fall. 
I  can't  even  bank  on  it  as  a  money-getter.  But  it's  gotten 
me "  He  laughed  at  his  rough  wit.  "  It  compels  pro- 
duction, and  that's  all  there  is  about  it.  Now  all  we  can  do 
is  to  undertake  it  with  prayer  and  fasting." 

Accordingly,  day  after  day  the  company  rehearsed,  Jerry, 
as  assistant  director,  on  the  barren  boards  with  them,  while 
Joan  and  Claire,  in  the  cold,  empty  foyer,  had  their  pick  of 
seats.  Farnham  attended  nearly  every  rehearsal,  though 
sometimes  he  would  skip  a  day,  only  to  bear  in  upon  them 
the  next  with  some  new  idea  to  be  inculcated  in  a  scene. 
He  pruned  Jerry's  script  with  a  ruthless  hand,  sacrificing 
much  that  Joan  and  Jerry  had  deemed  beautiful,  but  on  the 
other  hand  he  molded  the  plastic  clay  of  their  imagining  and 
produced  strong  effects  with  it. 

At  first  the  actors  read  their  parts,  returning  afterward 
to  their  seats  like  performing  dogs,  and  at  that  stage  of  the 
game  the  piece  seemed  so  bare  of  illusion  that  Joan's  heart 
sank  within  her  and  she  nearly  lost  faith  in  its  ultimate  ap- 
peal. But  when  at  length  they  were  letter-perfect  and  began 
to  move  about,  trying  out  their  positions,  a  greater  element 


296  BLIND  WISDOM 

of  reality  prevailed.  Nevertheless  there  was  the  discourag- 
ing business  of  repetition,  of  argument  and  experimentation, 
that  went  on  from  day  to  day  interminably,  till  the  whole 
thing  seemed  like  the  disordered  dream  of  an  opium  eater. 
Jerry,  holding  tight  to  his  original  conception,  drilled  and 
hammered  his  meanings  home,  labored  and  besought  and 
plead  with  them.  The  play  was  with  him  at  every  hour  of 
the  day  or  night,  walking,  eating  and  even  sleeping.  His 
room  was  next  Joan's,  and  once  she  was  wakened  by  his 
voice  in  the  dead  of  night,  speaking  with  the  pathos  of 
patience. 

"  Once  again.  Miss  Linguard,  if  you  please.  Not  so 
coldly.    Vita  is  human,  you  know." 

"  Poor  dear,"  she  thought,  "  it  will  certainly  be  the  death 
of  him." 

Rutherford,  as  a  colossal  triumph,  had  proven  his  title  to 
the  role  of  Peter.  Hitherto  Farnham  had  invariably  cast 
him  for  the  gently  humorous  hero  of  comedy,  simply  because 
he  had  come  into  recognition  wearing  good  clothes,  smoking 
cigarettes  in  a  fetching  manner,  and  making  love,  according 
to  his  feminine  audiences,  "  adorably."  His  admirers  had 
called  him  "  a  perfect  pet,"  "  fascinating,"  "  whimsical," 
"  Gibsonish,"  but  not  one  had  ever  applied  an  equivalent  for 
"  imposing."  His  wings  had  been  clipped  after  he  had  at- 
tained that  first  easy  perch  of  his. 

Such  a  role  as  that  of  Peter  was  entirely  unfamiliar  to 
him,  but  so  potent  was  its  influence  that  even  in  every-day 
life  he  now  felt  a  new  significance  in  himself,  a  new  latent 
dignity  and  power.  Claire  would  have  said  that  the  phi- 
losophy of  Peter  was  sinking  home.  He  did  unconsciously 
assimilate  much  of  that  picturesque  character's  psychology. 
And,  even  should  "The  Great  Gift"  prove  a  failure,  the 
stimulation  that  its  rehearsals  had  afforded  would  linger 
long  in  his  system  as  a  powerful  elixir,  strengthening  him 


«  THE  GREAT  GIFT  "  297 

for  further  achievements.  When  Farnham  had  seen  him  a 
couple  of  times,  feeling  his  way  into  the  part  with  inspired 
genius,  he  almost  believed  that  Ridgely  would  create  it,  and 
something  of  his  disapproval  ebbed.  Perhaps  he  had  unwit- 
tingly hampered  the  growth  of  Rutherford's  art  while  pan- 
dering to  his  own  money-making  instinct. 

One  curious  by-product  marked  the  play's  maturity:  as 
Peter,  Ridgely  was  again  essentially  a  lover,  but  of  a  type  to 
which  he  had  never  attained  before.  He  was  doomed  to 
lose  the  woman  of  his  choice,  just  as  he  was  doomed  even- 
tually to  lose  all  else  that  the  resentful  world  begrudged  him. 
In  the  shadow  of  approaching  annihilation,  Peter's  love- 
making  took  on  great  poignancy,  and  Ridgely  found  his 
major  opportunity.  Peter  was  the  more  heart-breaking  in 
that  he  was  human ;  nothing  could  have  exceeded  his  strong 
physical  nature  save  the  stronger  fibre  of  his  spirit.  He 
loved  like  a  man,  but  he  struggled  out  of  his  love  like  a  god 
when  it  was  borne  home  to  him  that  the  woman  too  was  in- 
herently against  his  precepts. 

Claire,  failing  to  grasp  her  husband's  artistic  fervor,  fairly 
rose  from  her  seat  when,  toward  the  last  of  the  rehearsals, 
that  memorable  love  scene  rose  to  the  heights  of  realism.  The 
kiss  which  Ridgely  implanted  upon  the  face  of  the  actress 
playing  "  Vita  "  was  later  to  move  his  audiences  profoundly. 
He  was  kissing  her  not  only  till  the  end  of  life,  but  till  stars 
should  fail  and  suns  grow  sick  in  their  orbits.  And  never 
was  he  more  compelling  than  that  afternoon  when  Claire 
was  startled  into  rebellion. 

"  Oh,"  she  sobbed,  to  Joan's  astonishment,  "  I  can't  bear 
it,  I  can't  bear  it.     I'll  tell  him  so  this  minute." 

Joan  too  had  risen  in  astonishment,  half  hysterical  herself 
with  the  emotion  that  the  scene  had  evoked.  But  it  took 
her  a  full  minute  to  realize  the  comic  truth  of  the  situation. 
Claire  was  jealous,  mortally  jealous  of  that  lay  figure  in 


298  BLIND  WISDOM 

Ridgely's  arms.  She  stifled  the  impulse  to  laugh.  In  an- 
other moment  she  had  no  desire  to,  for  Claire  was  edging 
her  way  along  between  the  seats  with  sinister  intention. 
Joan  knew  that  she  would  not  hesitate  to  interrupt  the  scene 
and  spoil  the  continuity  of  that  wonderful  rehearsal.  By  so 
doing  she  would  cripple  her  husband's  pride  as  well  as  anger 
Jerry. 

Joan  took  her  firmly  by  the  shoulders. 

"  Are  you  perfectly  mad  ?  "  she  breathed  fiercely  into  her 
ear.  "  You  unconscionable  little  goose,  what  can  you  be 
thinking  of?" 

Her  detaining  hands  were  not  to  be  shaken  off,  and  finally 
Claire  collapsed  in  a  seat,  crying  softly.  It  was  not  until  she 
had  regained  control  and  Joan  had  led  her  out,  that  the 
younger  sister  offered  a  little  common  sense  advice. 

"  Claire,  if  I  were  you,  I'd  stop  being  Ridgely's  satellite 
and  make  a  home  for  him.  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that 
when  a  man  marries  he  is  justified  in  expecting  his  wife  to 
provide  peace  and  domesticity?  Did  it  never  occur  to  you 
that  it's  the  tiniest  reflection  upon  him  that  you  won't  let 
him  out  of  your  sight  for  half  a  minute  ?  " 

Claire  turned  her  great,  unhappy  eyes,  "  April  gray  with 
jonquils  in  them." 

"  I  don't  care  in  the  least  for  a  home,  and  I  don't  intend  to 
give  up  my  time  to  making  one.  Do  you  think,  with  ten  thou- 
sand women  after  him,  I  can  afford  to  let  my  husband  drift 
away  from  me  ?  " 

By  unspoken  consent  they  had  entered  a  drug  store  and 
seated  themselves  upon  the  tall,  spindle-legged  stools.  Claire 
rummaged  in  hier  bag  for  a  mirror  and  absent-mindedly 
tucked  up  her  hair.  There  was  the  faintest,  indulgent  smile 
about  Joan's  mouth,  for  she  was  remembering  the  quintes- 
sence of  the  other's  wisdom  in  the  case  of  Agnes.  "  I  look 
about  among  my  friends,"  she  had  observed  then,  "  and  I 


"  THE  GREAT  GIFT  "  299 

find  that  the  happy  ones  are  the  ones  who  practice  tact  and 
adaptabiUty."  How  strange  it  was  that  she  had  no  per- 
spective on  her  own  behavior;  she  had  even  lost  her  sense 
of  humor. 

"  Ah,  poor  Ridge,"  remonstrated  Joan  gently,  "  I  am  sure 
that  he  means  to  be  very  true  to  you,  dear,  still,  if  you  are 
too  suspicious,  you  will  actually  drive  him  to  deception. 
That  little  incident  to-day — it  was  superb,  and  you  ought  to 
consider  it  as  such,  if  you  would  be  the  sort  of  wife  for  him. 
It  isn't  the  first  time  Ridge  has  kissed  a  woman  behind  the 
footlights — he'll — he'll  inevitably  go  on  kissing  them — so 
long  as  he  continues  to  act  Why  not  be  reconciled  to  it  ? 
It's  as  much  a  part  of  his  trade  as  it  is  for  a  groceryman  to 
weigh  out  the  butter " 

Claire  smiled  in  spite  of  herself. 

"  Perhaps — but  I'll  never  get  used  to  it,"  and  then,  because 
she  suffered  from  sore  pride,  she  struck  back  recklessly. 
"  Anyway,  I'd  rather  be  too  suspicious  than  too  blind.  It 
never  occurs  to  you  to  be  jealous  of  Jerry,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Jealous  ?"    Joan's  cheeks  were  burning.    "  How  do  you 


mean 


"  That  Miss  Gray,"  answered  Claire,  ignobly  snatching  at 
any  straw.  "  She's  really  pretty,  even  if  she  is  so  awf  ly 
made  up.  And  she  worships  the  ground  he  walks  on,  and 
yet  you  leave  them  together  for  hours  at  a  time." 

Joan's  expression  was  enigmatical.     She  said  lightly : 

"  Oh,  nonsense.  Lily's  a  good  sort,  and  it  would  be  a 
catty  trick  to  resent  her  after  all  these  years  she's  worked 
for  him.  Besides — well,  it's  nonsense!  Do  powder  your 
nose,  Claire.     It  looks  positively  polished." 

Claire  did  so,  watching  Joan  sidewise  the  while.  She  had 
really  no  reason  for  the  attack  on  poor  Lily ;  Joan  was  right 
in  deprecating  it,  yet  there  had  been  an  odd  quaver  in  her 
voice  as  though  the  thought  hurt  her. 


300  BLIND  WISDOM 

It  was  the  premiere  of  Jerry's  play.  Joan,  Oaire,  Agnes 
and  Godfrey  had  come  in  rather  late  and  occupied  a  lower 
box  to  the  right  of  the  stage.  In  a  state  of  suppressed  ex- 
citement they  removed  their  wraps  and  concentrated  fever- 
ishly upon  the  audience.  The  dank  cavern  of  the  rehearsals 
had  now  given  place  to  a  dazzling  auditorium,  animated  by 
highly  organized  human  beings,  who  were  gathered  there 
with  an  appetite  for  enjoyment,  for  edification,  even  for  in- 
struction, should  the  pill  prove  properly  sugared.  That 
seemingly  careless  aggregate  of  persons  yet  wielded  the 
sceptre  of  public  approval,  and  Joan,  gazing  over  the  sea  of 
coiffured  heads,  bare  shoulders  and  masculine  craniums,  told 
herself  that  she  feared  them  intensely.  The  gallery  filled 
very  slowly,  and  each  time  a  seat  was  snapped  down  by  an 
usher  she  lifted  a  thankful  head,  because,  if  the  highbrows 
resented  the  implication  of  the  piece,  the  gallery  contingent 
might  save  it,  constituting  itself  the  vanguard  of  the  future 
t3^e  of  audience. 

Once  Famham  came  to  the  door  of  their  box,  pale  above 
his  brilliant  shirt-front,  pressed  her  hand  and  whispered, 
"  Courage !  Callendar's  behind  there,  looking  like  his  own 
execution.  He's  lost  his  nerve;  you  must  make  him  buck 
up." 

"  111  do  my  best,"  she  breathed  back  and  managed  a  smile. 

The  black  evening  gown,  cut  square  in  the  neck,  empha- 
sized by  its  dignity  the  youthfulness  of  her  appearance.  She 
sat  between  her  two  sisters,  and  the  three  distinguished 
women  were  the  subject  of  considerable  comment  and  ad- 
miration. 

Just  beneath  her  Joan  heard  the  soft  designation,  "  The 
author's  wife — one  in  middle,"  but  glancing  down  she  failed 
to  recognize  the  speaker.  The  author's  wife !  An  intricate 
pride  stirred  within  her.  Oh,  he  must  succeed!  She 
studied  each  face  for  the  key-note  of  a  mood,  although,  of 


"  THE  GREAT  GIFT  "  301 

course,  it  was  too  early  to  read  portents;  the  curtain  had 
not  even  risen.  Now  the  down-stairs  seats  were  nearly 
taken,  when  her  attention  was  arrested  by  the  figure  of  a 
towering  old  man  in  meticulous  evening  dress.  The  contour 
of  that  grizzled  head  was  unmistakable — Judge  Callendar, 
Jerry's  father !  She  could  scarcely  contain  herself ;  oh,  this 
would  go  a  long  way  toward  restoring  Jerry's  confidence! 
She  fretted  because  Jerry  had  not  joined  them,  though  he 
could  scarcely  have  been  expected  to  do  so  in  that  merciless 
glare. 

Now  the  lights  were  diminishing  and  the  slow,  silvery 
chimes  that  invariably  marked  a  presentation  by  Farnham 
signalled  the  rise  of  the  curtain.  The  scene,  already  familiar 
to  a  chosen  few,  was  revealed  to  the  public.  Joan  thought 
that  she  must  expire  with  the  pride  and  momentousness 
of  the  occasion.  It  was  as  though  she  saw  it  all  for 
the  first  time.  She  had  intended  to  study  the  audience, 
but  instead  she  gave  herself  to  the  play  with  a  delighted 
impersonality.  It  was  not  a  light  story  Jerry  had  told.  At 
the  end  of  the  first  act  there  was  little  applause,  but,  as  the 
lights  presently  revealed,  a  warm  interlude  of  discussion. 
Each  entre  acte  was  to  Joan  like  an  eternity.  Ridgely  Ruth- 
erford's unsuspected  versatility  was  provoking  favorable 
comment — in  fact,  one  would  hardly  have  recognized  the 
stereotyped  matinee  idol  in  the  symbolical  figure  of  Peter 
which  he  played  with  fire  and  imagination. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  third  act,  which  was  both  Jerry's 
piece  de  resistance  and  his  most  powerful  piece  of  propa- 
ganda, he  slipped  into  the  box  beside  Joan  and  seated  himself 
quietly.  So  lost  was  he  in  the  study  of  his  own  creation 
that  he  seemed  scarcely  to  feel  the  comradely  hand  which 
she  slipped  into  his.  As  the  curtain  fell,  a  hush  seemed  to 
roll  forth  from  the  edges  of  it  to  the  farthest  comers  of  the 
theatre;  it  lasted  a  full  minute,  while  the  author  felt  that 


303      .  BLIND  WISDOM 

some  superhuman  force  gambled  with  his  fate.  Then  came  a 
loud,  spontaneous  applause,  calls  of  "  Author,  author,"  and 
"  Rutherford ! "  The  curtain  was  raised  and  lowered  in- 
numerable times,  while  Rutherford  and  the  other  members 
of  the  company  made  smiling  obeisance.  After  the  fourth 
call  Rutherford  stepped  forward  and  spoke  a  few  words  of 
appreciation  very  charmingly,  and  not  one  of  those  present 
would  have  dared  to  call  him  "  a  perfect  pet."  He  looked 
every  inch  an  artist,  dignified  in  the  consummation  of  his  art. 
Claire  wept  in  an  abandon  of  happy  ownership.  But  the 
cries  of  "  Author  "  persisted,  and  there  was  a  note  of  com- 
mand in  them. 

Famham  and  a  couple  of  newspapermen  materialized  in 
the  dim  depth  of  the  box. 

"  You'll  have  to  go,"  Jerry's  benefactor  insisted  with  a 
wry  smile.  "  Say  something — anything.  You  must  have 
something  prepared." 

"  I  ?  Not  a  chance."  The  self-effacing  Jerry  was  as  dis- 
comforted as  a  schoolboy,  as  angry  as  a  ruffled  cockatoo. 
"  Why  can't  they  let  me  alone  ?  " 

"  We'll  want  a  few  words  from  you  when  you  come  back," 
pressed  a  big  reporter.  "  And  let  me  congratulate  you  now, 
Mr.  Callendar.  I  don't  agree  at  all  with  what  you've  said, 
but  you've  put  up  a  darned  good  argimient.  Let  him  by, 
Townsend." 

"  Great  Heavens,"  thought  Joan,  "  this  is  worse  than  the 
whole  thing.     Whatever  will  he  say,  whatever  will  he  do  ?  " 

She  sat  twisting  and  untwisting  her  nervous  hands  till 
Godfrey  whispered  good-naturedly: 

"  You  forget  he's  a  lawyer, '  J.'  Why,  words  are  his  long 
suit.     Just  sit  back  and  put  your  mind  at  rest." 

She  essayed  control,  but  when  she  saw  Jerry  before  the 
curtain,  before  that  hypercritical  gathering  of  men  and 
women,  she  looked  upon  him  as  though  for  the  first  time. 


"  THE  GREAT  GIFT  *'  303 

He  wore  evening  clothes  with  an  air  of  quiet  distinction,  but 
his  hair^  where  he  had  drawn  an  irate  hand  through  it,  stood 
back  as  before  a  high  wind.  His  rather  deep-set  eyes  had 
the  shy  reserve  of  strong  character.  He  was  assuredly  of 
those  to  "  speak  truth,  right  the  wrong,  and  honor  the  king  " 
of  high  principle.  To  some  extent  he  embodied  the  qualities 
of  his  hero,  hating  all 

"  Comfortable  lies  in  books. 
Pallid  Virtue's  sidelong  looks, 
Fear  that  gags  the  jaws  of  Truth, 
Doubt  that  weighs  the  heels  of  Youth, 
Saints  who  wash  their  hands  too  clean, 
And  walk  where  other  saints  have  been, 
And  mobs  that  blabber  crucify! 
On  him  who  fixes  heaven  too  high." 

He  stood  before  them  and  there  was  the  tribute  of  perfect 
silence.  But  what  he  said  was  not  in  any  manner  what 
Godfrey  had  expected ;  he  had  neither  the  glib  utterance  of 
the  lawyer,  nor  was  he  in  the  least  oratorical.  He  simply 
said : 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  it  has  been  said  that  those  who 
deal  in  words  are  often  mysteriously  drained  of  them  at  full 
moments,  and" such  is  my  predicament.  But  all  that  I  would 
say  to  you  Peter  has  already  said  through  the  lips  of  my 
gifted  friend,  Mr.  Rutherford."  There  was  respectful  ap- 
plause. "  I  have  been  told,'*  Callendar  continued  with  a 
lovable  smile  of  whimsey,  "  that  in  China  it  is  customary  for 
the  playwright  to  appear  constantly  throughout  the  progress 
of  the  piece  and  naively  remind  the  audience  that  all  credit 
is  due  to  him  rather  than  to  the  actors.  It  seems  an  ad- 
mirable scheme.  And  yet,  could  we  conscientiously  adopt 
it  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  there  is  an  element  of  justice  in  the 
negligible  position  of  the  author.  By  the  time  that  a  play 
has  reached  maturity,  it  has  assimilated  from  many  sources; 


304  BLIND  WISDOM 

it  is  no  longer  the  result  of  one  mind  or  one  personality,  but 
a  complex  of  many.  Therefore,  meeting  with  your  gener- 
ous recognition,  I  think  it  only  fair  to  reverse  the  recom- 
mendation of  the  Chinese  playwright.  Remember  that  all 
credit  is  due  to  the  cooperation  of  the  actors,  who,  with  tire- 
less patience  and  fine  poetic  feeling,  have  aimed  to  make 
the  play  what  the  title  implies.  I  can't  help  feeling  that  the 
author  belongs  with  the  electrician  and  the  property  man — 
behind  the  scenes.     I  thank  you." 

It  was  dawn  when  the  Callendars  reached  home,  and  be- 
hind them  trailed  the  impressions  of  a  stupendous  evening. 
But  even  as  they  parted  at  the  head  of  the  studio  stair  with 
a  happy,  humorous  "  good-morning,"  Joan  felt  the  first  stab 
of  wistfulness.  That  modest  home,  with  its  makeshifts  for 
comfort,  its  quaint  air  of  camaraderie,  would  never  again 
be  quite  the  same.  Something  had  entered  it  and  something 
had  gone  out  of  it  forever.  Nor  would  she  longer  be  indis- 
pensable to  Jerry's  success.  The  truth,  of  course,  was  that, 
having  contrived  "  a  better  rat-trap  than  his  neighbor,"  the 
world  would  make  a  beaten  path  to  his  door. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 
AGNES'  DEVELOPMENT 

Agnes  Blunt  was  putting  her  children  to  bed.  To  her 
domestic  activity  she  still  brought  the  old  air  of  nun-like 
precision  and  sobriety,  yet  none  could  have  denied  that  in 
the  past  year  a  deep  change  had  overtaken  her.  Her  meek, 
Botticelli  features  were  now  stamped  with  a  curious  aware- 
ness; she  wore  sometimes  a  look  of  resignation  that  was 
almost  elation.  She  had  slain  her  personal  devils  and  the 
result  was  a  greater  humanity,  a  broader  vision,  yet  she  had 
paid  heavily  for  her  spiritual  schooling.  She  no  longer 
looked  remotely  girlish. 

During  that  tranquil  summer  in  the  mountains  she  had 
had  time  to  carve  a  philosophy;  she  had  also  looked  into 
each  life  story  that  came  her  way,  condemning  none  and  hon- 
estly pondering  the  remedy  for  each.  For  the  first  time  she 
let  the  dust  accumulate  upon  the  black  morocco  cover  of  her 
Bible  while  she  turned  the  pages  of  present-day  history. 
Very  slowly  she  came  to  perceive  that  the  idealists  are  often 
the  most  cruel  of  persons,  forcing  others  to  wear  the  misfit 
garments  of  their  sentiment.  With  a  terrific  wrench  she 
freed  herself  of  orthodox  prejudice,  she  caught  pace  with 
the  times.  And  in  a  long  explanation  which  she  had  evolved 
for  her  husband  and  her  husband's  conduct,  there  was  no 
trace  of  censure.  Agnes  had  performed  a  miracle,  she  had 
gotten  outside  of  what  Joan  had  called  "  a  mind  that  but- 
toned in  the  back."    And  when  she  took  that  difficult  step 


3o6  BLIND  WISDOM 

she  left  herself  behind  So  now  she  could  weigfi  all  that 
Godfrey  was  without  reference  to  herself.  She  could 
bring  a  sympathetic  attitude  to  his  restlessness  and  his  long- 
ing. And  she  had  decided  that  it  must  be  given  carte 
blanche,  in  short,  that  she  must  set  him  free.  Such  a  deci- 
sion as  coming  from  the  old  Agnes  would  have  been  incon- 
ceivable ! 

But,  though  her  resolution  lasted,  the  psychological  mo- 
ment for  breaking  it  to  him  had  not  arrived.  Autumn  paled 
to  winter,  the  glitter  of  Christmas  passed  to  the  limbo  of 
Christmases  lost  and  gone,  and  still  she  waited. 

Now,  as  she  unfastened  her  son's  stout  little  boots  and 
denuded  the  vigorous  little  body,  one-half  her  mind  coped 
wearily  with  the  problem.  How  to  free  him  ?  How  to  free 
him  magnanimously,  yet  in  so  impersonal  a  manner  that  he 
should  know  a  thankful  ease  of  conscience?  There  was  a 
step  in  the  corridor  and  then  the  magic  of  a  beloved  pres- 
ence, Joan,  mysteriously  abloom,  with  that  indefinable  aura 
of  well-being  that  a  woman  puts  on  with  happiness.  In  her 
arms  she  bore  two  great  packages  and  feigned  to  stagger 
beneath  the  load.  Immediately  the  nestlings  were  atwitter, 
and  Agnes'  white,  guarded  face  betrayed  a  flicker  of  sun- 
shine. 

"  Gaze,  darlings,"  cried  the  newcomer  dramatically,  "  gaze 
upon  these  heavenly  offerings.  I  was  passing  a  toy  shop, 
and  lo  and  behold,  these  things  came  walking  out !  Agnes, 
can  they  undo  the  strings  themselves  ?  " 

She  moved,  all  fresh  and  fragrant,  to  one  of  the  little  beds 
and  seated  herself  upon  it,  sharing  their  unjaded  thrills. 
Priscilla*s  gift  was  a  doll  with  all  a  doll's  pristine  wonder, 
the  supernatural  curls,  the  demure  mouth,  the  eyes  that 
close,  and  much  tarleton  finery!  Priscilla  clasped  it  with 
pious  thanksgiving,  and  her  own  precise  ringlets  bobbed 
over  the  artificial  ones. 


AGNES'  DEVELOPMENT  307 

"  Thankths,  Auntie  Joan,  I  thall  alwayth  be  kind  to  her ! " 

But  Godfrey,  rosy  in  pajamas,  drew  forth  his  toy  with  a 
loud  "  whoop-ee,"  while  his  mother  and  Joan  brooded  ador- 
ingly upon  that  beautiful,  potential  manhood  expressed  in  all 
his  boastful,  baby  ways. 

"  Nautomobile,"  he  chirruped,  swelling  out  his  diminutive 
chest.  "  I'm  fine  shofer.  I  kin  dwive  any  ol'  car  clear 
wound  the  world.  I  kin  change  ol'  tires,  an' — an'  clean  ol' 
spark  plugs!"  He  was  all  but  overcome  at  the  fine  me- 
chanical phrase  and  evidence  of  his  ability,  and  his  eyes,  so 
very  like  his  father's,  were  saucer-round. 

Joan  laughed  softly  and,  bending  over  the  absorbed  little 
fellow,  nestled  her  face  to  the  back  of  his  noble  head.  As 
she  did  so  she  surprised  in  the  ecstasy  of  her  affection  a 
strong  maternal  quality, — she  would  like  some  day  to  have  a 
son! 

Her  delicately  reluctant  reason  was  brought  to  focus  on 
that  possibility.  But  whose  son?  The  tiny  voice  yet  de- 
manded a  reply.  The  face  of  Bret  rose  before  her  like  a 
genie  from  the  vase — and  her  heart  stood  still.  But  all  that 
romantic  longing  of  a  year  ago  seemed  incredibly  remote ;  in 
truth,  she  was  obliged  to  constantly  remind  herself  to  love 
him,  her  loyalty  employing  the  mechanical  device  of  remem- 
bering just  before  she  closed  her  eyes  each  night.  Such  re- 
membrance was  innocuous.  Bret's  son?  The  thought  pro- 
duced no  vibrations,  and  the  inexorable  voice  probed  deeper 
into  the  subconscious.  Jerry's  son  ?  She  was  overwhelmed 
by  her  confusion.  The  voice  of  little  Godfrey  bore  in  upon 
her  suddenly  and  she  lifted  her  head.  That  sovereign  spirit, 
his  mother,  had  turned  out  the  light  and  was  hovering  over 
his  prayers.  These  prayers  inclined  to  originality,  and  his 
manner  of  communing  with  the  Deity  was  as  serious  as  it 
was  funny. 

"  How  are  you,  Dod  ?  "  he  inquired,  with  his  face  lifted 


3o8  BLIND  WISDOM 

in  the  darkness.  "  What  do  you  get  to  eat  up  tHere,  nothin* 
but  all  time  angel  cake  ?  " 

"Oh,  come/*  intervened  Agnes,  "ask  Him  to  bless 
Grandma  and " 

"  I  already  spoke  to  Him  'bout  Grandma,"  fumed  the 
mystic,  but  he  humored  his  mother  with  a  deep  sigh,  and 
the  appalling  prayer  went  on,  "  Bless  Grandma,  God,  bless 
her  again  to  make  sure,  an'  don't  make  me  have  to  all  time 
tell  you.  An' — an'  send  childum  to  my  two  aunts  so  I  kin 
play  wiv  *em,  boys,  if  you  please,  wiv  baseball  bats." 

When  Joan  and  Agnes  at  length  slipped  out  of  the  room 
they  scrutinized  one  another  affectionately,  each  with  sisterly 
curiosity  as  to  the  other's  state  of  happiness. 

"  How  well  you  are  looking,  Joan,  and  how  thankful  you 
must  be  now  that  Jerry  is  really  launched.  It  will  mean 
moving  from  the  studio,  I  suppose,  once  he's  in  full  swing." 

They  sat  down  in  Agnes'  sewing-room. 

"  Oh,  but  I  was  happy  before,"  seemed  drawn  from  Joan, 
"  and  as  for  leaving  the  studio,  I  should  hate  to  do  that.  It's 
all  been  such  fun  and  so  well  worth  while,  just  two  of  us, 
hitching  our  wagon  to  a  star.  And  to  think  that  the  dream 
really  materialized!  We  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing 
that  the  play  has  meant  everything  to  Ridgely  as  well  as  our- 
selves. Last  night  was  the  ninetieth  performance  with  con- 
sistently good  houses,  so  that  it  promises  to  have  a  long  run. 
But  Jerry's  at  work  on  another,  of  course.  He  was  at  the 
Players'  Club  last  evening  and  some  important  critic  told 
him  he  should  never  forget  the  first  night  of  '  The  Great 
Gift.'  He  said  that  it  was  like  the  days  of  the  old-timers, 
Booth  and  such,  when  one  actor  would  completely  dominate 
the  audience.  He  said  he  could  imagine  the  ghosts  of  long 
dismantled  greenrooms  listening  in  the  wings." 

She  regretted  her  exuberance  in  the  face  of  Agnes'  still 
gravity.  ^ 


AGNES'  DEVELOPMENT  309 

"  Oh,  but  Agnes,  you  should  be  happy  too,  with  these  dear 
children — I  think  that  children  are  everything;  they  are  the 
real  poets." 

"  Yes,"  said  Agnes  thoughtfully,  "  they  mean  a  great  deal, 
but,  since  I've  learned  to  be  honest  and  not  merely  conven- 
tional, I  may  as  well  say  that  they  don't  mean  everything. 
They  don't  entirely  compensate  if  the  love-life  is  denied." 

She  turned  calmly  the  thin  band  of  her  wedding-ring,  but 
her  sister  had  been  startled  by  the  new  note  of  candor  in  her 
voice. 

"  For  instance,  why  do  you  suppose  that  you  are  entirely 
l»PPy.  Joan?" 

A  second  unlooked-for  arrow  of  directness !  Out  of  con- 
sideration for  Jerry,  Joan  had  never  defined  their  relation- 
ship to  her  sisters,  and  Agnes  naturally  supposed  that  once 
in  Jerry's  tender  keeping  Joan  had  realized  her  past  folly 
and  put  Ballou  behind  her.  Now  Joan's  eyes  held  their 
faint  wonder. 

"Why?  How  can  I  say?  We  love  many  of  the  same 
things — we  are  independent — we  respect  one  another's  dif- 
ferences in  opinion.  And  then,  you  know,"  she  had  not 
meant  to  say  it,  "  we  are  not  in  love !  " 

"  Not  in  love  ?  "  echoed  Agnes  with  a  smile  behind  the 
question. 

"Why,  no,"  Joan  hastily  explained,  "not  as  Claire  and 
Ridgely  are.  We  never  feel  jealousy,  we  don't  make  scenes, 
we  never  lose  our  sense  of  humor !  " 

Her  face  had  grown  quite  pink  and  Agnes  put  an  amused 
and  tender  hand  over  hers. 

"  You're  an  awf'ly  funny  little  Joan,"  she  smiled  myste- 
riously, "  in  some  ways  so  mature  and  in  others  so  sublimely 
innocent.  You  don't,  for  instance,  know  that  you've  gotten 
hold  of  the  biggest  thing  in  life.  You  patronize  it  and 
deprecate  it  and  talk  about  it  in  a  superior  manner,  while  I, 


310  BLIND  WISDOM 

who  would  give  my  life  for  the  same  ideal  conditions,  knovr 
perfectly  well  what  the  good  Lord  has  given  you." 

"  I  know,  myself,  what  He  has  given  me,"  insisted  Joan 
stoutly,  "  friendship,  Agnes,  that  is  all — a  real  and  deep 
friendship  with  one  of  the  greatest  old  dears  in  the  world !  " 

She  was  so  earnest  that  Agnes  laughed  again  and  the 
tears  swelled  beneath  her  lowered  lids.  She  was  as  subtly 
provoking  with  her  superior  knowledge  as  she  had  been 
wont  to  seem  as  a  child  when  they  played  a  game  in  which 
Joan  was  worsted.  Her  omniscience  embraced  the  quaint 
ignorance  of  her  younger  sister,  and  yet  there  was  almost  a 
tragic  quiver  to  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 

"  Oh,  the  world  is  so  funny,"  she  shrilled  all  at  once,  like 
a  demented  person.  "  Oh,  you  are  so  absurd,  I  shall  die 
laughing.  You  don't  know  why  you  are  happy.  Ha,  ha, 
hal" 

*'  Calm  yourself,  Agnes,"  plead  Joan  tremulously.  "  Tell 
me  quietly,  why  you  think  it  is " 

"  Why  I  think  it  is  ?  "  echoed  Agnes  with  her  smile  flash- 
ing through  those  tragic  tears.  "  It's  because  you  love  Jerry, 
you  poor,  blind  baby,  because  you  love  him,  you  love  him, 
you  love  him.    ..." 

It  was  seven  o'clock  when  Godfrey  came  in  that  evening 
and  found  Agnes  very  faultlessly  dressed  beside  the  fire. 
She  no  longer  employed  those  feminine  wiles  which  Claire 
had  taught  her  a  year  before,  but  neither,  on  the  other  hand, 
had  she  reverted  to  her  former  old-maidishness.  She  was 
clothed  now,  both  outwardly  and  inwardly,  with  entire  self- 
respect,  and  what  she  lacked  in  youthful  attraction  she  made 
up  for  in  strength  and  serenity.  Godfrey,  dropping  the  per- 
functory evening  kiss  upon  her  forehead,  thought  that  she 
was  looking  extremely  well. 

Little  did  he  dream  what  high-charged  intention  underlay 
that  smooth  forehead,  that  calm  exterior.    No  longer  was 


AGNES'  DEVELOPMENT  311 

sHe  *'  a  fair-coined  soul  rusting  in  a  pool  of  tears  " ;  she  had 
found  at  last  a  haven  of  healing;  she  had  climbed  up  to  sit 
on  Philosophy's  great,  white  knees.  She  who  had  been 
"  frenzied,  bleeding  and  bare  "  was  now  sane.  Godfrey's 
kiss  made  her  smile,  as  the  transparent  overtures  of  an  en- 
fant terrible  who  has  but  lately  swallowed  stolen  jam. 

"  Come  to  the  fire,"  she  invited  agreeably,  "  unless  you're 
in  too  great  a  hurry  to  dress."  There  was  not  the  slightest 
suspicion  of  sarcasm  in  the  tones. 

Godfrey  threw  aside  his  heavy  coat  and,  extracting  a  cigar 
from  his  inside  pocket,  bit  off  the  end  with  his  strong,  square 
teeth. 

"Hurry?  Why,  no.  What  makes  you  think  that?" 
He  was  surreptitiously  consulting  his  watch.  Then,  with  a 
slightly  exaggerated  air  of  sociability  and  companionship,  he 
sprawled  in  the  easy  chair  she  indicated.  "  Youngsters 
asleep  ?  I  promised  the  boy  I'd  be  back  in  time  to  tell  him 
that  Putnam  wolf  story  before  the  Sand  Man  got  him,  but 
I  was  delayed  at  the  office  longer  than  I  expected.  The 
Brock  case  comes  off  to-morrow,  you  know ! " 

"  So  it  does."  He  noted  curiously  that  the  usual  scrap 
of  sewing  was  absent  from  her  hands  and  remarked  upon  it. 

"  Yes,"  said  Agnes,  "  I've  turned  over  a  new  leaf,  God- 
frey. I  intend  to  have  all  that  kind  of  work  done  outside. 
I  have  been  looking  no  farther  than  the  end  of  my  nose  for 
so  long  that  I  was  in  danger  of  growing  near-sighted.  So 
last  summer  I  folded  all  the  sewing  away  and  took  a  long 
look  about  me." 

The  words  were  prophetic,  but  Agnes  mouthed  them  in  a 
casual  manner. 

"  No  doubt  you're  very  wise,"  he  commented  pleasantly, 
but  his  ruddy  face  bore  a  curious  introspective  expression, 
as  of  one  listening  acutely  to  unfamiliar  doctrine. 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  am  wise."    Her  sigh  was  no  whit  more 


312  BLIND  WISDOM 

aggressive  than  that  of  the  mighty  wind  when  it  chooses  to 
be  caressing.  "  Last  summer  in  that  colony  of  mental  vo- 
luptuaries I  got  hold  of  some  interesting  thoughts — theories 
— and  I  applied  them  to  what  went  on  about  me.  I  discov- 
ered it's  only  when  you  don't  stand  up  to  life  that  it  hurts 
you.  I  remember  Jerry  used  to  say  something  of  the  sort ; 
in  his  words,  '  it  side-swipes  you  out  of  your  course.'  It's 
like  being  afraid  to  take  the  current  of  a  battery ;  when  you 
do  finally  get  hold  it's  ever  so  exhilarating." 

Godfrey  was  smoking  in  a  nervously  energetic  manner. 

"  Really,  dear,  this  is  all  very  unusual  coming  from  you. 
You've  evidently  been  converted  to  this  modem  cult  of  an- 
alyzing everything  down  to  the  ground." 

Agnes  clasped  her  slim  hands  over  a  reflective  knee. 

"  Yes,  analyzing  it  down  to  the  ground  and  under  the 
ground,  looking  for  imhealthy  drains.  Sentimental  people 
won't  do  that,  Godfrey,  and  when  the  atmosphere  of  their 
happiness  is  befouled  by  impure  odors  they  simply  hold  their 
mental  noses  and  keep  right  on  with  a  sickly  smile,  pretend- 
ing things  are  all  right,  because  they  have  been  brought  up 
never  to  admit  that  there  are  drains  in  the  world.  They 
will  not  cope  with  the  ugly  realities.** 

Her  innocent  eyes  were  on  the  fire,  but  Grodfrey  was  ex- 
tremely agitated  by  what  she  had  said  and  all  the  manifesta- 
tions of  her  development.  He  kept  clearing  his  throat  un- 
consciously and  waving  his  hand  about  in  the  thick  blue 
smoke  of  his  cigar,  like  one  directing  an  invisible  orchestra. 
At  this  last  vigorous  simile  he  brought  up  suddenly  in  his 
chair  and  looked  at  her  in  as  great  surprise  as  though  she 
had  turned  celestial  before  his  eyes — or,  more  extreme  yet, 
human ! 

"  I  say,  that's  a  good  one,  *  holding  their  mental  noses  * !  '* 

"  Yes,  it's  expressive  and  it*s  true.    I  held  mine  for  years." 

Oh,  now  he  saw  the  trend  the  conversation  was  taking, 


AGNES'  DEVELOPMENT  313 

and  with  quick  resentment  believed  it  only  a  new  and  elabo- 
rate form  of  sarcasm,  the  refinement  of  the  third  degree. 
In  his  tortured  eyes  Agnes  saw  the  same  imp  of  rebellion 
that  peered  from  little  Godfrey's  when  his  strong  will  was 
thwarted. 

"  So  the  implication  is  personal,  after  all.  I  might  have 
known.  Is  it  that  you  would  Uke  me  to  stay  home  this  even- 
ing?" 

She  did  not  so  much  as  flick  an  eyelash  in  his  direction. 
The  smooth,  cool  hands  on  her  knee  remained  inactive,  save 
when  she  lifted  the  poker  and  with  it  instilled  life  into  the 
charred  log  on  the  andirons. 

"  The  implication  is  personal,  but  your  deduction  incor- 
rect.    On  the  contrary,  I  want  you  to  go  out  this  evening !  " 

"  Please,  Agnes,  don't  be  subtle.  I  can  stand  anything 
but  that !  Do  you  think  it  is  altogether  my  fault  that  you 
are  unhappy  ?  " 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  very  deliberately,  "  that  it  is  my  own 
fault  if  I  continue  to  be  unhappy  a  day  longer.  Please  sit 
quietly,  Godfrey,  and  for  once  let  us  be  frank  with  impunity. 
You  can't  expect  me  to  tell  you  in  five  minutes  what  it's 
taken  me  a  year  to  evolve.  I  should  be  selfish  if  I  kept  this 
truth  from  you,  poor  boy,  when  it's  really  what  you're  grop- 
ing for  too." 

The  voice  carried  conviction ;  it  was  even  kind,  and  God- 
frey felt  like  a  sick  man  about  to  receive  a  diagnosis.  He 
relaxed  with  reservations,  one-half  of  him  still  refusing  to 
hope  for  a  remedy. 

"  To  beg^n  with,"  announced  Agnes  in  a  controlled  voice, 
"  we  were  mismated.  I  suppose  every  man  or  woman  mar- 
ries with  a  motive,  and  strangely  enough  I  believe  our  mo- 
tives were  identical.  We  both  wanted  to  '  marry  well ' ;  old 
family,  prestige,  honorable  fortune,  that  sort  of  thing !  But 
hardly  a  year  had  passed  before  we  discovered  our  blunder. 


314  BLIND  WISDOM 

Once  freed  of  your  father's  thumb  you  were  not  the  kind  of 
man  I  had  banked  on;  and  only  in  theory  had  you  wanted 
the  type  of  girl  that  I  was.  I  bored  and  nagged  you;  you 
shocked  and  disappointed  me.  But  I  wasn't  game  enough  to 
admit  the  truth.  You  were  nearer  it  than  I,  because,  rub- 
bing elbows  with  the  world  as  you  had  done,  you  had  worn 
threadbare  your  conventional  coat.  No,"  she  ruminated 
bitterly,  "  to  deny  that  our  union  was  real  would  have  been 
to  tear  down  all  the  old  superstition  of  the  infallibility  of 
marriage,  to  admit  that  our  foundation  was  rotten." 

The  clock  on  the  mantel  spoke  seven  with  silvery  chime, 
but  neither  heeded  it.  Grodfrey's  head  had  fallen  forward 
despondently  and  was  cradled  in  his  hands,  but  he  could  not 
speak.    Agnes  continued: 

"  When  my  suffering  became  so  frightful  that  I  could  en- 
dure it  no  longer  I  sought  a  panacea.  I  did  not  seek,  as  you 
have  done,  another  to  complement  my  own  type,  but  simply 
a  release  from  the  pain  of  the  present  arrangement.  I 
found  something  to  sustain  me — Philosophy !  "  Her  voice 
sank  to  a  whisper.  Her  gaze  fell  upon  the  demoralized 
figure  of  that  boy-man,  her  husband,  and  she  pitied  him 
rather  than  herself. 

"  Come,  Godfrey,  don't  let  it  double  you  up.  Remember, 
if  you  stand  up  to  life  it  can't  hurt  you.  Let  us  stand  up  to 
it  now.  Let  us  " — she  was  white  as  marble,  but  impersonal 
as  marble,  if  marble  could  speak — "  let  us — free — one — an- 
other     I  want,"  she  added  with  the  precision  of  one 

explaining  to  a  child,  "  my  own  chance  for  happiness." 

Suddenly  he  lifted  his  harrowed  face,  red  and  blotched  by 
hard-shed  tears  and  as  contorted  as  hers  was  smooth  and 
beautiful.  He  reached  for  those  white,  nun-like  hands  with 
his  large,  muscular  ones,  red  too  from  stress  of  feeling. 

"  My  poor  girl,  what  have  I  done  to  you?  Will  you  ever 
forgive  me  ?  " 


AGNES'  DEVELOPMENT  315 

His  grip  hurt  her,  but  when  she  would  have  cried  out  she 
turned  the  sound  into  a  laugh  instead. 

"  I'll  do  better  than  that,"  promised  Agnes,  softly,  "  I'll 
understand  you." 

At  the  word  "  understand'*'  he  seemed  to  lose  control  of 
himself  utterly,  dropping  his  head  in  her  lap  and  sobbing  as 
a  man  sobs  but  once  in  a  lifetime.  All  about  them  in  the 
warm,  well-ordered  house  the  sounds  of  domesticity  pre- 
vailed, a  maid  sorting  silver  in  the  dining-room,  the  cook  in 
the  kitchen  grinding  coffee,  up-stairs  the  gentle  rock-rock  of 
a  chair  where  the  children's  nurse  kept  vigil,  and  below,  be- 
fore the  fire,  the  man  and  woman  in  the  helplessness  of 
human  extremity.  Agnes  gazed  numbly  upon  the  rough- 
ened head  in  her  lap  and  even  touched  it  with  a  pitiful  ges- 
ture, but  was  careful  to  remain  maternal  in  doing  so.  She, 
whose  tears  had  maddened  and  perplexed  him  all  these 
years,  did  not  exercise  the  feminine  prerogative  now. 

"  Come,  Godfrey,  what's  the  use  in  *  letting  it  get  you,*  as 
they  say  in  slang?  The  time  for  tears  is  past.  I'm  not 
hurt,  I'm  not  at  all  miserable  as  I  was  before  I  understood. 
I  bore  you  actual  personal  resentment  then  and  animosity, 
as  though  you  could  help  your  own  pleasure-loving  nature 
that  led  you  away  from  me.  I  made  my  mind  into  a  mad- 
house of  ugly,  jangling  discords.  It  was  all  so  foolish  and 
so  tragic !    But  we'll  never  let  it  be  that  way  again." 

For  answer  his  arms  tightened  about  her  with  dumb  re- 
morse, his  shoulders  rose  and  fell  spasmodically,  and  that 
ever-growing  argument  of  his  tenderness  became  a  palpable 
danger  to  her.  Above  his  huddled  figure  her  eyes  roved 
wildly,  enfeebled  by  the  sight  of  such  love-hallowed  things 
as  the  room  contained.  She  must  never  let  herself  be  con- 
quered again,  and  she  struggled  to  free  herself  of  his  dead 
weight  that  dragged  about  her  waist,  anchoring  her  resolu- 
tion.   He  did  not  understand  why  she  struggled  nor  the 


3i6  BLIND  WISDOM 

strength  that  was  in  her,  but  he  at  last  perforce  yielded,  and 
Agnes  stood  erect  as  a  superwoman. 

"  Godfrey,"  she  breathed  quickly,  "  there's  some  other 
woman.  I  don't  care,  but  I  know.  I  once  found  a  letter 
she  had  written  you.  It's  manifestly  impossible  for  you  to 
be  true  to  both  of  us.  Perhaps  she'll  make  you  happy.  It's 
fair  that  both  of  you  should  have  a  chance  and — and  I  give 
you  up  freely,  gladly,  since  I've  come  into  my  new  sense  of 
values.  You  are  not  only  valueless  to  me;  you  are  under- 
mining my  life."  Then,  in  a  kinder  tone,  "  I  won't  even 
take  the  children  away  from  you  altogether.  They  love  you 
and  it  isn't  fair  that  they  should  suffer.  Besides,  my  motive 
is  not  one  of  revenge." 

He  heard  her  through  a  dull  veil  of  grief.  He  knew  that 
she  was  at  last  stronger  than  he,  strong  and  in  some  way  in- 
spired. The  fact  that  she  had  risen  to  these  ungnessed 
heights  of  magnanimity  and  good  fellowship,  that  she  was 
offering  him  release,  shamed  him  and  threw  him  into  con- 
fusion. While  she  talked  he  had  first  to  segregate  his  ideas, 
to  understand  his  own  reaction.  Then,  all  at  once,  he  had 
pulled  clear  out  of  his  lassitude  and  despond,  and  started  to 
his  feet  with  a  sharp  protest. 

"  It's  all  true,  Agnes,  what  you  said  about  there  being 
some  one  else.  I  never  wished  to  deceive  you,  but  somehow 
your  attitude  forced  me  into  it.  But  to-night  I  feel  as  if  I 
could  tell  you  about  the  whole  thing  and  that  you'd  see  it  for 
what  it's  worth.  Her  name — ^but  that  would  mean  nothing 
to  you.  She's  a  woman  I  came  across  in  business — a  suc- 
cessful little  worker,  and  just  a  regular  feller,  as  the  boys 
say,  but  she  had  to  meet  with  disillusionment  as  you  have, 
before  she  reached  this  state  of  understanding.  When  you 
and  I  were  at  cross-purposes  something  drove  me  to  her, 
just  as  animals  and  insects  know  what  herb  will  heal  them." 

Agnes  said  nothing,  but  she  made  a  gesture  to  go  on. 


AGNES'  DEVELOPMENT  317 

"  If  I  never  see  her  again,"  continued  Godfrey  hoarsely, 
"  she'll  accept  my  dictum  without  bitterness,  and  be  un- 
selfishly glad  that  my  house  has  become  really  my  home. 
Perhaps  that  has  always  been  her  hold  over  me — that  she 
had  no  hold!" 

But  Agnes  broke  in  painfully: 

"  You  can't  do  that,  Godfrey — ^you  can't  go  back  on  that 
sort  of  woman ! " 

He  looked  at  her  fiercely. 

"  Aren't  you  the  same  sort  of  woman  ?  " 

Something  exquisite  and  vernal  stirred  in  Agnes  like  the 
faint  hopes  of  early  spring,  a  tricky  emotion  setting  its  snare 
for  her.  She  seemed  silently  to  protest,  and,  as  though  he 
heard  that  thought  of  hers,  Godfrey  argued  stoutly : 

"Yours  is  the  stronger  claim,  old  girl.  You  forget  the 
children." 

"  But  I  don't  want  you  to  make  me  a  present  of  yourself. 
My  mind  is  made  up  and  no  power  can  change  it.  No 
power  can  hold  me." 

His  face  lighted  with  a  sudden  revelation  that  was  really 
the  best  of  him. 

"  There  is  a  power  can  hold  you,  Agnes,"  he  asserted 
quietly,  "a  power  stronger  than  yourself.  I  don't  under- 
stand why  you  do — I  know  I'm  worthless,  but  I  also  know, 
by  God,  that  you  love  me,  and  so  long  as  you  do  I  mean  to 
hold  you  and  try  to  make  myself  worthy." 

An  expression  of  terror,  alarm  and  simple  entreaty  swept 
over  her  face  as  he  approached  her,  the  greatly  beloved  and 
erring  male!  Protesting,  fearing,  yet  at  the  same  time 
almost  daring  to  believe,  she  let  him  take  her  in  his  arms. 
Her  eyes  swam  in  tears. 

"  Oh,  God,"  she  wept,  "  must  we  go  on,  must  we  go  on  ?  " 

For  answer,  Godfrey  set  his  lips  against  hers. 


CHAPTER  XXX 
THE  REVELATION 

All  the  way  home  Joan  was  pursued  by  the  extraordinary 
words  which  Agnes  had  spoken, — "You  love  Jerry,  you 
love  him,  you  love  him  1 "  At  times  they  caught  pace  with 
her  and  she  was  forced  to  quicken  her  step  to  outdistance 
them.  What  if  they  were  true  ?  She  searched  her  memory 
for  corroboration  and  found  almost  immediately  that  fright- 
ened ecstasy  she  had  been  wont  to  know  of  late  in  Jerry's 
presence,  during  interludes  of  silence  when  they  would  be 
together,  the  shaded  lamps  aglow  and  the  drawn  curtains 
denying  the  street.  Or  in  the  morning  when  the  sun  blurred 
through  the  muslins  of  the  broad  windows  and  their  break- 
fast table  received  full  benefit  and  Jerry,  opposite  her, 
freshly  tubbed  and  wholesome  with  a  halo  of  coffee  steam 
round  his  head ! 

She  remembered  certain  endearing  tricks  of  his,  his  way 
of  telling  a  funny  story,  gravely  to  begin  with,  then,  knowl- 
edge outdistancing  narration,  the  smile  that  would  be  bom 
at  the  comers  of  his  mouth  and  ripple  inward.  And  she 
recalled  the  look  in  his  eyes  when  she  sat  shrouded  in  her 
hair  after  a  shampoo,  till  he  took  refuge  in  nonsense, 
"  Rapunzel,  Rapunzel,  let  down  your  hair."  And  the  night 
of  the  thunder-storm,  the  feel  of  his  heart  beating  beneath 
the  thin  shirt,  the  funny  fragrance  of  his  tweed  jacket. 
And  yet  he  had  neither  manifested  nor  solicited  love  from 
her  in  the  accepted  sense  of  the  word.    And  surely  she  had 


THE  REVELATION  319 

bestowed  her  love  upon  another  for  all  time !  Nevertheless 
she  had  been  obliged  to  quicken  her  pace. 

She  moved  with  the  veering  lightness  of  a  leaf  along 
Eighth  Street,  exquisitely  alert  to  each  recurring  phase  of  it 
How  many  afternoons  she  had  come  hurrying  as  now  along 
the  semi-darkness  of  her  way,  past  the  intellectual  invitation 
of  the  book  shops  and  through  the  racy  penumbra  of  the 
restaurants,  always  with  the  sense  of  expectancy — going 
home !  She  repeated  the  words  to  herself,  "  Going  home," 
and  for  the  first  time  she  realized  the  beauty  of  them. 

Now  as  her  latch-key  prevailed  against  the  outer  door  she 
was  powerless  to  subdue  her  singing  elation.  Suppose  it 
were  true,  suppose  she  did  love  Jerry  and  he  loved  her  and 
what  had  been  but  friendship  should  reach  full  fruition? 
She  blossomed  like  a  secret  rose  in  the  darkness.  The  stair 
that  she  climbed  was  hardly  higher  than  her  heart. 

Before  her  own  door  she  rummaged  for  a  second  key 
(the  first  was  fat  and  the  second  was  slim),  but  trembling 
made  her  fingers  less  nimble  than  usual,  and  beside  it  was 
pleasant  to  ring  and  be  opened  to  by  the  new  acquisition, 
Jenny.  As  she  waited  she  compounded  bright  whimsies  to 
amuse  the  playwright,  who  would  be  jaded  from  his  day's 
endeavor.  She  would  tell  him  that  she  had  seen  the  book- 
dealer  closing  his  shop  and  thrusting  forth  a  bookworm 
and  that  when  she  passed  the  restaurant  the  spaghetti  chased 
her  down  the  street.  He  would  lift  his  rumpled  head,  his 
eyes  would  crinkle  and  the  slow  smile  begin  at  the  comers 
of  his  lips.  At  that  point  her  happy  reflections  were  inter- 
rupted. The  door  swung  open  and  a  masculine  figure 
blocked  the  entrance.  It  was  Bret  Ballou,  smiling  her  in. 
Joan  stumbled  forward  feebly,  her  knees  so  weak  that  she 
could  scarcely  stand.  For  the  time  being  she  had  forgotten 
that  he  was  alive. 


320  BLIND  WISDOM 

"Bret!" 

"Joan." 

"  Call  me  '  Enoch  Arden/  "  he  prompted  wryly.  "  That's 
the  man  I  feel  like,  after  all  these  months  of  exile  to  find 
you  prospering  with — your  husband !  "  The  word  "  hus- 
band "  came  hard  but  he  continued  in  a  lighter,  more  per- 
suasive tone,  "  Joan,  Joan,  little  sweetheart.  I  couldn't  wait 
a  day  longer,  so  here  I  am,  and  please  be  nice  to  me.  Ah, 
say  you're  glad '* 

"Why,  Bret,  I ** 


He  had  thrown  a  joyous  arm  about  her  and  pressed  her 
close  as  he  drew  her  into  the  warm,  lamp-lit  room,  and  he 
was  dazzling,  this  tall,  attenuated  boy  with  his  carelessly 
conquering  way.  Florida  suns  had  driven  their  gold  be- 
neath his  skin;  the  beaver  collar  of  his  motoring  coat  was 
scarcely  richer  in  tone  than  his  Byronic  head.  He  took 
captive  the  imagination. 

"  Oh,  Bret,"  she  gasped,  holding  him  at  arm's  length,  her 
emotions  in  a  muddle,  "  why  did  you  come  before  the  time 
was  up  ?  You  know  you  promised  Jerry  to  remain  away  a 
year,  and  now  he  will  think  that  we  have  both  deceived  him.*' 

"  A  year !  Ye  gods,  Twinkletoes,  this  is  a  '  fine  welcome 
on  the  doormat  *  for  a  mariner  that's  been  blown  around  the 
seven  seas."  He  smiled  engagingly.  "  I  see  I  must  woo 
you  all  over  again  from  the  start.  Well,  I'm  willing  to. 
Let  me  look  at  you ! " 

She  seized  the  opportunity  to  break  from  him  and  covered 
her  action  by  a  pretense  of  displaying  her  fine  feathers.  She 
had  come  out  of  mourning  at  Jerry's  request  and  was 
smartly  trim  in  blue.  She  had  lived  among  Bohemians  long 
enough  to  be  cured  of  the  leaning  toward  eccentric  attire; 
to  dress  with  distinction  now  seemed  to  her  less  obvious. 
From  the  soft  folds  of  her  scarf  her  face  peeped  like  that 
of  a  delightful  boy;  her  hat  was  of  the  sort  later  to  be 


THE  REVELATION  321 

described  as  "  no  longer  respecting  the  neutrality  of  the  left 
eyebrow."     Excitement  lent  her  an  added  piquancy. 

"  You  are  adorable,"  breathed  Ballou  fervently,  and  he 
meant  it.  "  You  were  always  an  appealing  little  fawn,  but 
now — Ton  my  soul  I'm  sorry  for  Callendar  if  he  doesn't 
appreciate  you  or  if  he  does — knowing  I've  the  prior  claim. 
Twinkletoes,  don't  coquette  with  me!  Can't  you  see  I'm 
dying  to  kiss  you  all  over  your  delicious  face  ? " 

"  Tut !  "  she  rebuked  warningly.  "  Remember  you  must 
start  all  over  from  the  beginning.  And  it's  dear  old  Jerry's 
house " 

"And  dear  old  Jerry's  kisses?'*  he  insinuated  with  a 
frown. 

"  N-no,  my  kisses  are  my  own.  I  only  say  the  year  is  not 
up  and  you  must  abide  by  our  constitution.  Personalities  are 
tabooed.  But  since  you  are  here  we  can  talk  of  other  things, 
'  of  shoes  and  ships  and  sealing  wax,  and  cabbages  and 
kings.' "  She  lilted  though  her  heart  was  scarcely  as  light 
as  she  would  have  him  believe. 

Jerry  was  not  in  and  her  eyes  kept  roving  apprehensively 
toward  the  door. 

"  Jenny,"  she  called  to  the  maid  who  cut,  bat-like,  across 
the  background,  "  give  us  more  light,  please !  " 

Jenny  complied  and  the  seductive  dimness  of  the  lamps 
was  lost  in  a  shower  of  electricity.  At  least  Jerry  should 
not  find  them  maundering  in  sentimental  gloom.  Bret 
smothered  a  protest.  The  lights  revealed  that  the  room  had 
grown  in  richness  since  Callendar's  success.  They  had 
picked  up  some  mellow  antique  chairs  and  a  sofa  which  were 
upholstered  in  dull  blues  and  gold,  a  few  good  rugs  were 
lain  on  the  bare  floor,  on  the  thousand-legged  table,  set  for 
dinner,  a  great  mound  of  oranges  and  grapes  formed  an 
effective  centerpiece.  Across  the  low  bookcases  Joan  had 
flung  a  piece  of  old  Chinese  embroidery  and  in  a  blue  bowl 


322  BLIND  WISDOM 

arranged  yellow  roses.  Since  she  had  told  Jerry  that  her 
blue  bowl  cried  aloud  for  "  blond  roses  "  he  had  kept  her 
supplied.  As  Joan  drew  off  her  gloves  she  noticed  that 
Jenny  still  lingered. 

"  Was  there  something  you  wished  to  say  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Callendar,  Mr.  Callendar  'phoned  that  he 
would  be  delayed." 

"  Thanks,  Jenny." 

Joan's  sigh  of  relief  was  faintly  audible  and  provoked  a 
smile  from  her  caller.  This  smile  broadened  when  she 
motioned  him  toward  a  chair.  He  was  not  to  be  coerced 
into  formality.     He  shook  a  stubborn  head, 

"  Not  in  a  thousand  years  would  I  consent  to  sit  in  a  chair 
when  we  might  perch  like  a  couple  of  love  birds  on  the 
divan."  He  reached  for  her  hand  and  drew  her  impul- 
sively down  beside  him  on  the  broad  seat.  "  Twinkletoes, 
we  must  talk  fast  now  and  make  each  moment  count,  so 
let's  do  away  with  preliminaries.  I  want  to  know,  have  you 
been  true  to  me  ?  *  Honest  and  true,  black  and  blue  ? '  Be- 
cause, I  swear  to  you,  as  God  is  my  witness,  I  haven't  looked 
at  another  girl,  except  to  compare  her  with  you.  And  when 
I'd  have  a  streak  of  the  blues,  when  I'd  be  demoralized  with 
the  thought  of  the  situation  I'd  console  myself  with  planning 
for  our  future — for  little  Joan  Ballou." 

At  his  intensity  she  drew  back  with  a  new  shyness,  unable 
to  brave  his  eyes,  but  through  the  hand  that  he  held  the 
torrent  of  Bret's  vitality  surged  into  her  veins  like  wine. 
She  was  neither  wholly  happy  nor  wholly  miserable  but  a 
strange  complex  of  both.  To  the  loyal  voice  that  cham- 
pioned Jerry  she  replied  that  it  would  be  madness  to  imagine 
after  the  stand  she  had  taken  for  Bret  and  her  martyring  of 
Jerry  his  heart  would  ever  be  open  to  receive  her.  So  they 
remained  for  a  half  hour,  she  now  passive,  now  swayed  by 
his  endearments,  while  Bret  warred  against  a  feeling  of 


THE  REVELATION  323 

bafflement.  The  Joan  he  had  once  won  now  eluded  him, 
yet  he  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  in  what  the  barrier  con- 
sisted.    All  at  once  he  asked  her: 

"  What  about  Callendar  ?  Has  he  been  good  to  you  all 
this  time  ?    Has  he  been  on  the  square  ?  " 

Something  in  her  revolted  against  the  crudeness  of  such 
catechism,  but  she  concealed  her  distaste. 

"  Surely  you  must  know  that  I  "    Her  eyes  brimmed  tears. 

What  a  tragic  muddle  it  all  was !  Since  she  had  built  up 
so  strong  a  position  she  must  maintain  it  to  the  end,  she  must 
eventually  make  good  her  promise  to  Bret.  And  yet,  and 
yet  had  she  not  been  too  impetuous,  too  impressionable  in 
the  first  place,  christening  a  brand  new  infatuation  "  love," 
adjusting  the  course  of  her  life  and  Jerry's  to  this  will-o'-the- 
wisp  of  attraction?  Was  it,  after  all,  quite  what  she  had 
imagined  it  ?  Even  beneath  the  spell  of  his  charm  she  could 
ask  herself  that,  could  obtain  perspective.  These  months  of 
separation  had  bred  in  her  a  new  sense  of  values;  she  saw 
Bret  to-day  as  a  fascinating  unknown  quantity.  He  could 
sway  her  certainly  yet  underneath  it  all  were  they  com- 
panions, were  they  friends?  It  was  difficult  for  her  to 
imagine  them  in  the  double  purpose  of  any  day-by-day  ex- 
istence. Since  she  had  lived  in  Jerry's  house  she  had  come 
to  see  that  a  great  deal  of  tolerance  and  true  affection  had 
enabled  them  to  bridge  the  tiny  difficulties  of  living.  With- 
out it  what  would  they  have  done  at  trying  times?  In  the 
words  of  Owen  Wister's  Virginian:  "It  is  the  pesky  little 
things  of  day  by  day  that  make  life  hard  for  the  man  and 
woman  tied  together  so  awf  td  close."  Possibly  money  would 
facilitate  such  difficulties  but  the  fundamentals  remained, 
the  fine  mechanism  of  matrimony,  too  deep  to  be  affected  by 
material  circumstance. 

"  I  hear  Callendar's  made  a  name  for  himself  on  this 
first  play,"  Bret  was  saying,  "  and  I'm  glad  for  your  sake, 


334  BLIND  WISDOM 

Twinkletoes.  It  was  tough  having  to  go  away  leaving  you 
with  such  dubious  prospects."  It  was  characteristic  of 
Ballou  to  disregard  the  fact  that  he  might  have  remained  in 
town  during  the  winter ;  nothing  had  dictated  the  move  save 
his  preference  for  a  warm  climate.  "  I  didn't  even  know 
whether  you'd  have  enough  to  eat,"  he  continued  with  a 
sigh  for  the  discomfort  of  such  imaginings. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I've  had  enough  to  eat,"  Joan  chose  to  be  literal. 
"And  speaking  of  things  to  eat  what  do  you  suppose  we  did 
Christmas  ?  " 

Her  eyes  were  bright  with  remembrance  or  was  it  that 
they  were  still  wet? 

"  Don'no,"  rasped  Bret,  yawning  jealously,  "  what  did 
you  do  ?  " 

"We  prepared  the  dinner,"  answered  Joan  animatedly, 
"  and  then  we  invited  all  Jerry's  underdogs  to  dine.  Oh, 
he  has  quite  a  number  on  his  list  of  tramp  aristocracy.  I'd 
always  been  dying  to  do  some  such  thing  but  lacked  the 
moral  courage  till  Jerry  stood  by  me." 

Ballou  was  disarmed  of  his  boredom. 

"  You  don't  mean  that  you  actually  sat  down  with  such 
trash?" 

She  nodded  demurely. 

"  Not  only  sat  down,  Sir  Fastidious,  we — ^we  *  victualled ' 
with  'em !  And  when  they'd  stowed  away  a  cozy  feed  and 
there  were  no  vacant  comers  in  any  of  them  we  made 
them  pay ! " 

"Pay?" 

"  In  our  own  fashion.  We  made  each  tell  us  the  most  In- 
teresting thing  that  had  ever  happened  to  him  and  Jerry 
wrote  it  all  down  in  his  '  Plot  Germ  Book.'  And,  oh,  Bret, 
the  possibilities  for  stories.  That's  called  getting  copy,"  she 
added  airily. 

Bret  coughed  drily. 


THE  REVELATION  325 

**  I  should  say  you  were  lucky  if  you  didn't  get  some- 
thing else."  Then,  feeling  the  terrier's  damp  nose  upon  his 
knee,  "  Whose  dog  is  this  ?  " 

"  Ours,  an  Irishman  by  the  name  of  Dennis,"  she  cried 
gaily.  "  I  think  the  poor  dear's  very  homely  but  Jerry 
thinks  he  has  becoming  fur." 

The  light  went  out  of  her  face  when  she  saw  Bret's  dark 
scowl ;  the  truth  of  the  situation  returned  to  her. 

"  You  seem  to  have  had  a  pretty  good  time  with  your 
Jerry." 

Joan  touched  him  penitently. 

"Oh,  Bret,  I  have.  I  may  as  well  tell  the  truth  and 
shame  the  devil.  That's  why  I  hate  deceiving  him  now. 
Jerry's  an  angel !  " 

Bret  started  up  impatiently. 

"  I've  been  a  fool  to  leave  you  with  him  all  this  time ; 
there  never  was  such  a  predicament  as  mine.  But  I'll  not 
stand  it  any  longer.  I'll  wait  and  tell  him  so  when  he  comes 
in.  In  spite  of  everything  I  still  hold  that  I  have  a  claim. 
Give  me  a  chance,  Twinkletoes,  and  see  how  happy  I  can 
make  you.  You  shall  be  the  recognized  leader  of  the  New 
York  younger  set,  you  shall  have " 

"  Hush,"  she  entreated,  "  and — and  please  go. — ^You  were 
perfectly  mad  to  have  come  here  to-day.  Whatever  made 
you  do  it  ?  " 

His  eyes  narrowed  with  boyish  malice. 

"  I'll  tell  you  why, — because  it  occurred  to  me  that  there 
was  something  queer  about  Callendar  having  allowed  him- 
self to  be  buffaloed  into  the  arrangement  of  the  past  year. 
At  first  I  thought  he  was  simply  a  fool  idealist,  too  milk  and 
water  to  mind  being  shoved  to  the  wall.  But  since  I've  seen 
his  initiative  in  getting  ahead  I  don't  believe  it.  What  I  do 
believe  is  that  he's  willing  to  give  you  up ! " 

"  But  he's  not  giving  me  up ! "    The  lace  on  her  bosom 


326  BLIND  WISDOM 

rose  and  fell  and  he  saw  her  eyes  suddenly  sloe-black  with 
feeling.    The  speech  was  a  colossal  blunder. 

"If  you  love  me  as  you  profess  to  do,  why  should  you 
care?" 

Joan  had  heard  the  opening  of  a  door. 

"  I  don't— care."* 

"  Then  say  you  still  love  me,  Twinkletoes,"  he  plead. 
*'  It's  so  little  for  me  to  take  away." 

"  I "  she  began  mechanically  but  could  not  make  her- 
self go  on. 

She  stood  waiting  fatalistically  for  Jerry  to  walk  in. 

"I  did  not  ask  him  to  come,"  were  Joan's  first  words 
when  Bret  had  withdrawn  and  she  and  Jerry  had  seated 
themselves  at  the  dinner  table.    His  face  was  inscrutable. 

"Naturally  not!" 

"And  I  reproached  him  very  much  for  doing  so,"  the  girl 
went  on  miserably.  "  But  he  said  that  the — the  year  is 
nearly  up ! " 

Her  voice  carried  an  emotional  quality.  Jerry  broke 
bread  with  entire  equanimity,  then  devoted  himself  to  a 
scientific  carving  of  the  roast. 

"  So  it  is,"  he  mused  almost  pleasantly.  "  My  dear,  I 
wish  you'd  have  Jenny  sharpen  these  knives  to-morrow. 
They're  not  conducive  to  a  good  disposition.  Well  done  or 
medium?" 

"  Neither,"  she  said  sharply,  piqued  by  his  indifference. 
"  I — I  thought  you  might  remember  the  contract,  your 
honor  and  all  that.  I  thought  you  might  care.  It  would 
be  more  flattering  to  me  if  you  at  least  pretended  to." 

She  was  very  stiff  and  straight  In  the  high-backed  chair, 
looking  like  a  mediaeval  princess,  her  face  a  Japonica  flower 
growing  out  of  darkness.  Jerry  dismissed  the  maid  very 
calmly,  and  Jenny  pussyfooted  away  with  her  perfect- 


THE  REVELATION  327 

servant  air  of  having  assimilated  nothing  of  the  conversa- 
tion. Then,  for  a  time,  he  ate  with  good  appetite,  occa- 
sionally rallying  Joan  to  follow  suit,  but  she  remained  with 
proud  hands  in  her  lap,  looking  as  unhappy  and  ill-fated  as 
the  last  of  Bluebeard's  wives.  Jerry  whistled  at  the  canary, 
encouraged  Dennis  to  nose  beneath  his  arm  for  scraps  and 
seemed  oblivious  and  content  with  his  monologue.  But 
covertly  he  observed  her.  When  one  bright  tear  appeared 
on  the  long  lashes  his  pose  changed  instantly. 

"  Joan,"  he  spoke  grimly,  "  you  are  a  veritable  woman!  I 
had  not  suspected  it  of  you  but  now  I  see  that  you  have  the 
same  old  bag  of  tricks  handed  down  from  Mother  Eve." 
And  with  growing  heat,  "To  begin  with  you  offer  to  put 
yourself  in  my  keeping.  You  say,  'Jerry,  take  me,  and  let 
us  build  some  kind  of  a  good  life  together ! '  Very  well,  I 
am  not  a  marrying  man  but  I  permit  myself  to  travel  a  long 
way  on  the  old  road  to  paradise.  Then,  say  you,  as  soon 
as  the  knot  is  tied,  *  Release  me,  for  I  see  my  former  love  re- 
turning.' Again  you  are  to  all  purposes  free  and  patiently, 
laboriously,  I  retrace  my  steps  to  the  starting  point !  I  am 
not  to  see  paradise  after  all.  But  I  grow  reconciled  in  time, 
I  grow  serene  and  spiritually  restored,  I  can  see  you  beside 
me  day  after  day  without  pangs  of  covetousness.  Now  the 
time  approaches  when  you  contemplate  cutting  the  last  bond ; 
you  are  determined  to  go  but  resentful  that  I  make  no  out- 
cry, no  demonstration  of  a  broken  heart.  Womanlike,  you 
insist  upon  another  emotional  crisis,  simply  for  the  sport  of 
seeing  me  in  the  arena  among  the  lions  while  you  turn 
thumbs  down.    I  ask  you,  is  it  fair?" 

"  Oh,"  she  moaned,  "  how  cleverly  you  contort  the  truth. 
You  forget  my  devotion,  my  partnership  all  these  months — 
that  is  nothing !  " 

He  said  calmly: 

"That's  imtnie  and  unworthy,  merely  going  off  at  a 


328  BLIND  WISDOM 

tangent!  I'm  not  speaking  of  friendship  now.  We've  al- 
ways been  friends  and  comrades — nothing  can  change  that. 
I'm  speaking  of  our  relationship  as  man  and  woman." 
And  after  a  little,  with  growing  force,  "  Don't  you  suppose 
I  realize  what  you've  meant  to  my  work?  I'm  like  Samson 
knowing  Delilah  will  sap  his  strength  when  she  cuts  his  hair 
and  powerless  to  avert  the  catastrophe.  But  I  accept  all 
that.  I  can  get  along,  I'm  game !  Only,  only  I  must  insist 
that  there  shall  be  no  flowers  at  my  funeral — no  barbaric 
last  rites ! " 

His  hand  came  down  on  the  bare  table  and  the  dishes  leapt 
off  the  board  only  to  subside  with  a  shivery  sound.  Surely 
this  was  not  the  gentle  Jerry  she  had  known,  who  had 
treated  her  heretofore  like  a  partner  in  a  game  of  parchesi. 
She  was  awed  and  thrilled  by  him.  He  was  revealed  suf- 
ficiently formidable  to  set  her  trembling.  She  struck  back 
with  feeble  hysteria: 

"  Is  it  really  the  fine  thing  to  pose  as  a  martyr  when  you're 
only  waiting  to  slip  out  of  the  noose  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about  and  neither,  I 
think,  do  you !  " 

His  kindling  ire  almost  convinced  her  of  sincerity,  but 
some  demon  of  doubt  was  urging  her  on. 

"The  fact  that  you  received  Bret  so  civilly  proves  that 
you  are  anxious  to  be  relieved  of  me." 

With  which  thrust  her  face  crumpled,  her  chair  was 
scraped  back  and  before  Jerry  grasped  her  intention  she  had 
fled  up-stairs.  Jerry  remained  with  a  certain  exhilaration. 
Anything  was  better  than  neutrality.  Her  napkin  trailed 
across  the  table  and  some  individual  fragrance  lingered  in 
her  place  as  though  a  phantom  woman  sat  tete-a-tete  with 
him.  Curious  little  creature,  he  ruminated,  with  something 
of  the  spitfire  in  her,  something  intimate  too  in  her  indict- 
ment.   Heavens,  how  her  eyes  had  blazed  with  topaz  fire: 


THE  REVELATION  329 

she  had  been  adorable  in  her  anger,  betraying  a  femi- 
nine pique  that  compensated  him  for  the  half  hour  of 
frenzy  he  had  spent  since  he  knew  that  Bret  had  been  with 
her. 

He  left  the  table  abruptly  and  rushed  up  the  stairs  two  at 
a  time. 

"  Joan !  "  He  rapped  at  her  door,  then  pushed  it  softly- 
open  so  that  a  radiant  pattern  of  light  advanced  across  the 
dark  floor.  "  Joan ! "  He  bent  over  her  where  she  had 
flung  herself  on  the  bed,  his  anger  given  way  to  the  tender- 
ness that  she  so  often  inspired  in  him.  Uncovering  one  eye 
she  saw  him  looming  above  her  with  an  expression  like 
Burnes- Jones'  Prophet  Hosea.  "  Dear,  I  was  a  bit  of  a 
brute.  Out  of  sore  pride  I  gave  you  the  wrong  impression. 
Naturally  I  resent  the  fact  that  he  hasn't  kept  his  word  to 
me,  and  you  can  depend  upon  it,  he  shall  not  escape  punish- 
ment. Now  that  he  has  broken  his  half  of  the  agreement, 
mine  no  longer  holds.  I  shall  free  you  only  when  I  see 
fit!" 

"  Meaning  when  you  grow  tired  of  me  ?  '* 

Jerry  let  a  laugh  answer  such  childish  fencing. 

"  Meaning  in  good  time  I  shall  arrange  a  try-out  so  there 
may  be  no  possibility  of  a  second  mesalliance.  You  and  he 
must  have  a  chance  to  cultivate  one  another!  Don't  mis- 
take me,"  he  added  quickly,  "  all  shall  be  according  to  con- 
vention— but  the  three  of  us  in  one  crucible  till  we  know 
which  two  metals  will  amalgamate." 

She  turned  restlessly  on  the  pillow,  but  before  she  could 
reply  a  shadow  fell  across  the  threshold  and  Jenny  peered 
anxiously  in.     Jerry  stepped  forward. 

"  Sorry,  Jenny,  that  we  couldn't  finish  dinner,  but  Mrs. 
Callendar  has  a  headache — and " 

"  It  isn't  that,  sir,"  began  the  girl  nervously,  "  but  there's 
been  a  telephone  message,  an'  you're  to  go  straight  home, 


330  BLIND  WISDOM 

sir.  Your  father  is  took  bad  of—of  the  heart,  I  think  it 
was,  sir!" 

Jerry  stared  back  at  her  with  an  incredulous  face. 

"My  father?"  and  then  again,  foolishly,  "my  father? 
He's  ill?" 

The  words  spoken  in  an  apprehensive  voice  arrested 
Joan,  who  immediately  stumbled  to  her  feet.  She  looked 
at  Jenny,  then  at  Jerry,  heavy  with  fear  and  bewilderment. 

"It's  Father,"  he  said,  frowning  fiercely  because  of  a 
burning  sensation  in  the  eyes.  "  He  needs  me.  I  must  go 
to  him." 

"Yes,"  whispered  back  Joan,  "we  must  hurry,"  and 
hastily  snatching  a  wrap  she  followed  him  down-stairs  ,into 
the  street. 

The  wind  had  settled  with  the  night  and  in  its  place 
vagrant  mists  were  still-hunting  through  the  streets.  Under 
their  feet  the  cold  paving  stones  gave  forth  a  ghostly 
resonance.  To  Jerry  the  night  spelled  bitter  retribution 
and  was  forever  afterward  to  be  associated  with  the  pain  of 
remorse.  When  he  looked  at  length  upon  the  familiar 
brick  house  it  seemed  to  have  grown  in  height  and  volume  as 
though  it  would  exclude  him  from  intercourse.  Absorbed 
in  his  own  introspective  sorrow  he  scarcely  realized  the 
presence  of  Joan  till  at  the  door  she  gently  withdrew 
the  hand  of  sympathy  she  had  given  him  and  which  he  had 
all  the  way  unconsciously  held. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 
DEATH  DEMANDS  HOSPITALITY . 

The  doctor  had  already  arrived  when  Jerry  and  Joan 
entered  the  house ;  lights  blazed  from  the  ornate  chandeliers ; 
from  overhead  one  felt  a  subtle  excitement,  almost  an  ela- 
tion as  though  it  were  life  and  not  death  soon  to  be  shown 
hospitality.  In  truth  the  solemn  old  house  presented  a  far 
more  gala  appearance  on  the  night  of  its  master's  demise 
than  it  had  been  wont  to  do  in  the  days  of  his  vigor.  At  the 
top  of  the  stair  Mrs.  Flint  showed  her  dyed  head  and  a  tri- 
angle of  apron  ostentatiously  dabbing  her  eyes.  Even  in  this 
quite  clear  circumstance  of  illness  she  could  not  escape  her 
mania  for  being  indirect. 

"  Mister  Jerry,"  she  was  whimpering  and  wheezing  when 
the  white- faced  Jerry  ran  up,  "  Gawd  bless  yer  pore  'eart, 
an'  a  shocking  bit  o'  news  it's  been  for  yer.  Not  but  wot  I 
didn't  hexpect  it  for  the  last  'alf  month,  but  wot  I  sez  is, 
*  Time  enough  to  be  halarmin'  *im  wen  'e's  took.  An'  then 
to-night,  suddint-like  'e  keeled  over,  an'  me  in  the  kitchen 
makin'  a  pat  o'  butter  from  the  sour  milk  the  green  grocer 
is  forever  sendin'  when,  suddint-like " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  interrupted  Jerry,  pushing  by,  "  but  tell  me 
later,  Mrs.  Flint.  The  doctor's  here,  of  course.  I'll  go 
right  in." 

Joan,  who  had  followed,  pressed  his  arm,  before  she  drew 
back  into  the  shadows  beside  the  coarse-gfrained  woman 
whom  she  instinctively  disliked. 

"  Courage,  old  dear,"  she  breathed  after  Jerry.  "  It  may 
not  be  so  bad." 


332  BLIND  WISDOM 

How  life  piled  up  its  events,  she  reflected,  building 
capriciously  till  one  felt  that  the  last  story  must  topple  like 
a  house  of  cards.  In  that  one  day  she  had  lived  through 
much,  Agnes'  fertile  declaration  that  her  affection  for  Jerry 
was  but  the  age-old  elemental  passion,  her  interview  with 
Bret,  breeding  wretchedness  and  uncertainty,  later  she  and 
Jerry  quarreling  as  only  a  man  and  woman  do  with  the 
possibility  of  love  between  them,  and  last  of  all  this  sad 
pilgrimage  through  the  night.  Mrs,  Flint  circled  about  her 
in  the  darkness  like  a  bird  of  ill-omen,  her  pseudo-grief  held 
in  abeyance  for  curiosity. 

**  So  you're  his  wife,  dearie !  An'  likely  as  not  you  'aven't 
seen  'is  father  ever  at  all.  Wy  don't  you  just  take  a  peep 
at  'im  now,  an*  where  would  be  the  'arm?  Wot  I  sez  is, 
'e's  too  far  gone  to  mind." 

"  No,  no,"  protested  Joan,  withdrawing  yet  farther  from 
the  door  of  Judge  Callendar's  room.  "  I  couldn't  intrude 
upon  them  now.  Ah,  poor  Jerry,  poor,  poor  boy.  How 
bitter  if  he  must  lose  him." 

"  We  must  hall  go,  ma'am,"  sniffed  Mrs.  Flint  senten- 
tiously,  and  succeeded  in  evoking  further  tears,  "  an*  no 
worse  for  'im  than  for  others.  'Is  son'll  get  on  in  the  world, 
I  dare  say,  but  wot  of  a  pore  widder  woman  like  meself  ?  '* 
(Sniff,  sniff !)     "  Dublin's  an  *ard  road  to  travel." 

Joan  moved  uncomfortably  and  ventured  a  suggestion: 

"  Hadn't  you  better  be  waiting  on  the  doctor  ?  " 

Mrs.  Flint  shook  a  lugubrious  head. 

"  'E's  too  far  gone  to  matter,  an'  I  aren't  no  hand  witH 
sick  folks." 

"  Very  well,  I'll  go  myself,*'  said  Joan  with  a  touch  o£ 
austerity  and  made  good  her  intention. 

As  she  paused  timidly  on  the  threshold  of  the  room  she 
never  forgot  the  impression  which  she  received.  Nothing  in 
the  house  had  been  changed  since  Jerry's  girl-mother  had 


DEATH  DEMANDS  HOSPITALITY  333 

sought  a  fairer  clime.  The  thick  carpet  had  once  boasted 
a  groundwork  of  lush  green  with  monstrous  horticultural 
designs  in  bright  colors.  But  the  green  had  long  ago  turned 
autumnal  and  the  flowers  become  as  faded  and  legendary 
as  those  found  dried  between  the  pages  of  old  books.  The 
black  walnut  bedroom  set  was  intact  with  all  its  melancholy 
mid-Victorianism.  On  the  walls  hung  samplers  and  hair 
flowers  under  grass,  the  chairs  had  antimacassars  across 
the  backs  and  on  a  marble-topped  stand  by  the  bed  reposed 
a  ponderous  Bible.  And  to  think,  marvelled  Joan,  that  each 
day  the  Fifth  Avenue  'buses  with  their  frivolous  freight 
passed  by  this  mausoleum  unaware. 

Grayed  by  encroaching  shadows,  the  sick  man  lay,  ter- 
rible in  futility,  those  black  beetling  brows  and  piercing 
eyes  the  only  color  in  a  stricken  face.  He  seemed  intent 
upon  holding  to  power.  It  was  Jerry  who  was  broken, 
Jerry  who  was  demoralized  by  the  approaching  fatality. 
Kneeling  by  the  bed  with  both  arms  about  the  upright  figure 
of  his  father  he  might  have  been  a  prodigal  son,  his  one 
idea  to  prolong  the  minutes  into  aeons  of  atonement.  Atone- 
ment ?  True,  he  had  been  guilty  of  no  offense  save  that  his 
manhood  had  rebelled  from  being  a  mere  clothes  peg  hung 
with  the  inhuman  ambitions  of  another.  But  the  father  was 
old  and  lonely  and  had  such  pride  in  the  son  been  justifiable  ? 
In  his  agony  for  explanation  Jerry's  voice  sounded  to  him 
thick  and  inarticulate,  numbed  by  the  knowledge  of  all  they 
had  lost  of  one  another. 

The  doctor  hovered  over  the  sick  man  and  once  injected 
some  strong  stimulant  into  his  arm  so  that  Judge  Callendar 
stiffened  and  cried  out  sharply.  But  a  curious  circumstance 
was  that  he  made  no  effort  to  talk.  He  rested  in  his  son's 
arms,  communicating  with  him  only  by  means  of  those 
supematurally  intelligent  eyes.  Even  Joan,  lingering  at  the 
foot  of  the  bed  with  the  doctor,  felt  herself  recognized,  as 


334  BLIND  WISDOM 

it  were,  embraced  by  them,  and  remembered  the  day  when 
he  had  mipudently  lumbered  up  the  two  flights  of  stairs  to 
their  apartment  with  his  acrimonious  manner  concealing 
loneliness.  Later  on  she  and  Jerry  were  to  discover  the 
little  calendar  that  he  kept  on  his  library  desk  with  each 
date  black-marked  since  Jerry  had  left  him,  perhaps  the  most 
human  of  all  his  documents. 

It  was  a  little  past  midnight  when  he  died  and  Jerry  was 
alone  with  him,  Joan,  at  his  insistence,  having  gone  to  rest. 
Jerry,  who  had  not  taken  his  eyes  from  his  father's  face, 
sensed  immediately  a  second  crisis  and  propped  him  up  in 
bed.  Then  it  was  that  Judge  Callendar  spoke  two  sen- 
tences, the  text,  as  it  were,  of  a  peaceful  passing  and  all 
that  Jerry  might  keep  to  console  him  as  token  of  forgiveness. 

"  She's  a  good  girl,"  whispered  the  dying  man,  unmis- 
takably referring  to  Joan,  and  with  a  feeble  pressure  of  the 
hand,  "  It  was  a  damn  good  play " 

Jerry  never  remembered  quite  how  Joan  happened  to 
come  in,  for  he  had  made  no  outcry.  He  only  remembered 
that  in  his  terrible  helplessness  of  grief  his  manhood  seemed 
to  slip  away  from  him  and  in  the  gray  hours  before  dawn  she 
yearned  to  him  like  another  Mater  Dolorosa  and  her  tears 
and  kisses  were  on  his  face.    .    .    . 


CHAPTER  XXXII 
THE  HOUSE  OF  CALLENDAR 

Joan  Callendar  lay  at  full  length  upon  the  sun-baked 
earth,  with  her  ear  to  nature.  Beside  her,  the  gray,  weath- 
ered bungalow  which  Jerry  had  taken  for  the  summer  like- 
wise enjoyed  a  siesta.  It  was  situated  on  a  hillock  in  a 
natural  landscape  garden  of  bayberry  and  dwarf  pine,  some 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  sea.  On  that  particular  stretch 
of  the  Rhode  Island  shore  the  land  has  a  cozy  character  of 
gentle  undulations ;  sassafras  grows  there,  musk,  sweet  fern, 
and  sumach.  In  spring  the  wild  garden  is  foam-flecked  with 
shadblow ;  in  late  summer  and  autumn  it  grows  mellow  with 
what  it  has  learned  from  the  sea. 

The  farther  one  pursues  the  winding  road  that  accommo- 
dates itself  to  the  hollows  like  a  glinting  snake  the  more 
ambitious  it  becomes,  cottages  supplementing  bungalows, 
houses  superseding  cottages,  villas  outrivalling  the  houses, 
and  so  on  until  one  is  in  the  very  heart  of  a  fashionable 
resort  where  pickle  kings  and  cotton  magnates  may  stand 
tiptoe  and  measure  up  to  one  another.  But  Jerry  Cal- 
lendar, for  reasons  sufficient  unto  himself,  had  preferred 
the  lesser  end  of  the  road,  out  among  the  furzy-topped 
hillocks,  where  the  design  of  the  Great  Gardener  had  not 
as  yet  been  tampered  with ;  as  he  put  it,  where  God  might 
walk  in  the  still  of  the  evening  without  the  pretenders  cry- 
ing Him  down.  Near  where  Joan  lay  a  file  of  purple  and 
cerise  hollyhocks  were  drilling  in  the  sunshine,  and,  com- 
pared with  their  stiff  brilliance,  the  backgrounding  sea  be- 


336  BLIND  WISDOM 

came  but  a  scarf  of  blue,  lying  along  the  shoulder  of  the 
sky.  If  one  rose  on  one's  elbow  and  peered  over  the  barri- 
cade, one  gleaned  a  different  impression :  then  one  saw  that 
the  water  was  a  blue  kerchief  with  white  lace  at  the  edge. 
To-day  beauty  put  an  ache  in  her  throat.  She  was  not 
happy. 

For  the  first  six  weeks  Joan  and  Jerry  had  lived  on  the 
little  hilltop  as  appropriately  as  birds  of  the  brush.  They 
had  made  no  commotion  in  the  wild  garden,  very  seldom 
detaching  themselves  from  it  sufficiently  to  analyze  their  en- 
joyment. Words  were  for  the  delectation  of  a  remote 
public;  here  they  might  enjoy  the  primitive  luxury  of  "  feel- 
ing along."  They  bathed  with  introspective  pleasure, 
basked  in  the  sand,  hunted  shells  among  the  shallow  pools, 
all  without  self -consciousness.  Both  were  brown  and  at- 
tenuated as  savages  from  the  life  of  out-of-doors.  Where 
bodies  are  perfect  clothes  become  subordinate,  and  they 
wore  "  any  old  thing  "  with  stunning  effect.  Joan,  in  sun- 
bleached  cotton,  with  bare  throat  and  arms  and  a  crimson 
sash  about  her  waist,  was  a  super-gipsy.  Jerry  was  no  boy, 
but  the  weeks  of  recreation  had  put  him  physically  at  his 
best. 

As  gradually  his  pain  at  the  loss  of  his  father  softened  to 
reconcilement,  he  was  able  to  realize  and  be  grateful  for  the 
assurance  of  means.  It  meant  that  he  might  pursue  his 
chosen  art  without  having  to  wholly  commercialize  it.  It 
meant  that  Joan,  if  Joan  chose  to  remain,  should  live  as  she 
had  originally  been  taught  to  do. 

"  Can  we  afford  the  outing  ? "  she  had  asked  when  he 
first  suggested  the  bungalow  at  the  shore,  and  then  he  had 
told  her,  half  apologetically: 

"  Far  from  not  being  able  to,  I'm  afraid  we're  even 
rich.  .  .  .  We  must  persuade  your  mother  to  give  up 
her  aristocratic  old  ladies  and  live  like  one  herself." 


THE  HOUSE  OF  CALLENDAR  337 

"  Oh,  Jerry,"  she  had  exclaimed  with  a  tender  tear,  "  that 
means  you  can  write  plays  forever !  " 

"And  need  never  have  one  produced ! "  he  laughed  in- 
dulgently.    Then  he  saw  her  face  darken. 

"What  now,  little  Joan?" 

"If  we — if  you  are  so  rich  it  means,  I  suppose,  that 
you'll  pay  Mrs.  Flint  to  stay  on  in  the  big  house — and  I 
don't  like  Mrs.  Flint." 

Jerry  laughed  uproariously  and  all  the  little  sun  wrinkles 
appeared  about  his  eyes. 

"  No,  it  means  I'll  pay  her  not  to  stay  on." 

How  happy  and  unshadowed  those  first  weeks  had  been! 
Jerry  was  never  obtrusive  with  his  care  of  her ;  it  had  never 
seemed  the  elaborate  manifestation  of  a  lover,  but  in  little 
ways  he  had  watched  over  her — he  had  been  so  kind !  And 
then  suddenly  an  inexplicable  change  in  him.  As  she  lay 
this  afternoon  in  the  grass  she  brooded  unhappily  upon  his 
strange  attitude  and  dated  it  from  the  incident  of  the 
swimming.  They  had  been  accustomed  to  donning  their 
bathing  suits  at  the  cottage  and  following  the  path  down  to 
the  lonely  beach,  far  from  the  popular  bathing  point,  and 
it  had  been  a  matter  of  pride  with  them  that  no  day,  how- 
ever rough,  had  they  missed  their  dip.  But  this  day  had 
been  fair,  the  waves  somewhat  whelming  after  a  recent 
storm,  but  no  worse  than  they  had  coped  with  before.  They 
had  been  in  the  water  some  time  and  by  tacit  consent  were 
about  to  leave,  when  he  noted  a  curious  phenomenon. 
Joan  was  swimming  frantically,  yet  apparently  making  no 
headway.  The  beach  shelved  sharply  at  that  point  so  that 
she  was  in  reality  only  a  few  feet  from  shore,  while  beyond 
her  depth.  Instantly  he  guessed  the  truth ;  she  was  caught 
in  a  "  sea  puss  "  and  struggling  to  escape. 

There  was  no  help  within  a  half  mile,  there  was  not  even 
a  bit  of  rope  along  the  beach.    If  he  went  to  her  aid  they 


338  BLIND  WISDOM 

might  both  be  beaten.  But  the  only  chance  and  the  one  he 
was  bound  to  take  was  that,  being  a  stronger  swimmer,  he 
could  pull  her  out  of  it  When  he  reached  her  she  was  al- 
ready splashing  and  breaking  form,  and  from  each  moun- 
tain that  swept  over  them  her  face  rose  blue  and  panic- 
stricken. 

"  Take  your  time,"  he  screamed  between  the  thunderous 
booming  of  the  waves,  keeping  close  and  conserving  his 
strength  for  a  last  possible  emergency.  "  Keep  on  slowly — 
same  direction — we'll  get  out  of  it."  But  toward  the  last 
he  had  to  help  himself  and  fight  for  her  too.  When  the 
tenacious  hold  was  relaxed,  the  sea  hove  them  up  the  steep 
hill  to  the  beach  and  vomited  them  vengefully  high  and  dry. 
She  had  lain  among  the  seaweed,  spent  and  sick  with  horror 
now  the  danger  was  past. 

And  she  had  felt  Jerry  very  close,  had  anticipated  a 
caress.  But  instead  of  touching  her  he  had  spoken  in  a 
harsh  voice  and  one  as  cold  as  was  her  exhausted  body. 

"  Joan,  I've  recently  heard  from  Bret  Ballou,  and  he's 
staying  over  at  the  '  Hill.'  Some  one  must  have  told  him 
we're  summering  here.  I've  invited  him  to  call."  Joan's 
wet  face  came  out  of  her  arms  and  showed  the  interroga- 
tion of  a  lifted  brow.  "  I  think,"  continued  Jerry  steadily, 
"  it  is  as  well  you  should  renew  friendship  now  as  at  any 
time.  In  fact,  the  time  is  propitious.  I  shall  be  getting 
down  to  work  as  soon  as  Lily  arrives." 

The  voice  was  casual,  but  it  set  her  shivering.  How 
could  he  speak  so  coldly  now  when  they  had  both  but 
escaped  the  clammy  claws  of  the  current,  writhing  like  a 
dragon  along  the  shore  ?  Had  she  been  more  learned  in  the 
ways  of  men  she  might  have  given  his  speech  an  opposite 
interpretation.  Instead,  she  had  accepted  it  proudly  at  its 
face  value,  and  that  day,  looking  about  the  little  house 
yrhere  she  had  been  so  happy,  she  told  herself,  "  This  is  the 


THE  HOUSE  OF  CALLENDAR  339 

end  of  what  was  almost  perfect.  Now  there  will  be  Lily  to 
occupy  his  mind,  and  Bret  to  besiege  me,  and  strained  situa- 
tions all  around." 

Soon  after,  Lily  Gray,  painted  waif  of  the  city,  had 
trooped  down  to  join  them,  and,  strangely  enough,  from  the 
first  evening  Joan's  heart  had  begun  to  ache.  Standing 
beside  Lily  at  the  door,  Jerry  with  fine  discrimination  had 
shown  her  what  he  admired  and  Joan  had  heard  him  say, 
"  To-morrow  you'll  want  to  wash  the  powder  from  your 
face  and  just  lift  it  up  to  the  sun."  Turning,  he  added 
whimsically,  "  Joan  has  already  had  hers  kissed,  isn't  it 
true,  dear  ?  '*  But,  try  as  she  might,  Joan  could  not  fashion 
a  smile. 

And  the  next  day  the  four-cornered  situation  was  com- 
plete when  Bret  motored  over  from  the  "  Hill."  Before 
Joan  had  been  able  to  visualize  that  visit  it  became  a  reality, 
and  the  sleek  gray  roadster,  like  a  great  feline,  was  purring 
at  their  sunny  door.  Bret,  bracing  himself  slightly,  yet  with 
the  boldness  too  of  one  bom  to  command,  jumped  out. 
Figuratively  speaking,  he  waved  his  white  flag  of  truce,  and 
called  out  to  Jerry  with  his  sparkling  eyes.  His  magnifi- 
cence always  seemed  to  make  pale  by  contrast  his  surround- 
ings or  satellites.  When  Jerry,  abiding  by  the  rules  of  the 
game,  sauntered  forth  to  greet  him,  he  was  shown  to  be 
almost  middle-aged,  sere  and  shabby.  He  was  accustomed 
to  work  in  old  white  flannels,  with  a  tennis  shirt  open  at  the 
throat,  and,  as  it  was  characteristic  of  him  to  rumple  his 
hair  as  he  cudgelled  his  brain,  it  stood  quite  on  end.  But 
by  the  easy  dignity  of  his  gfreeting  he  may  have  been  said  to 
score  as  a  man. 

Ballou,  trim-waisted  and  immaculate,  with  his  brown  head 
shining,  came  forward  in  the  sunlight  and  shook  hands. 
Of  the  two  he  was,  after  all,  the  more  undone. 

He  laughed  uncertainly. 


340  BLIND  WISDOM 

"  Well,  I've  taken  you  at  your  word,  and  all  I  can  say  is, 
if  you  didn't  mean  it,  just  kick  me  out" 

"  Nonsense,  of  course  I  meant  it.  Awfully  good  of  you 
to  look  us  up.  We  might  never  have  known  you  were  our 
next  door  neighbor  if  you  hadn't  written  that  note.  You 
see,  we  don't  mingle  with  the  'pleasant  wicked  in  Gomor- 
rah.* We  prefer  to  stay  out  here  on  our  hilltop  and  invite 
our  souls." 

Ballou  smiled  ingratiatingly  and  chewed  the  edge  of  an 
incipient  mustache.  The  situation  challenged  all  his  savoir 
faire. 

"  I  suppose  you  find  much  inspiration  here.  And,  speak- 
ing of  inspiration,  I've  taken  the  liberty  of  bringing  you 
some  of  the  liquid  kind,  and  several  other  little  things  I 
thought  you  might  enjoy  while  roughing  it.  We've  some 
bully  surf  boards  over  there,  painted  in  bright  colors,  you 
know.    I  have  one  in  the  rumble." 

Jerry  could  scarcely  restrain  a  smile. 

"That's  very  thoughtful  of  you.  As  for  the — liquid 
donation,  you'll  stay  for  dinner,  of  course,  and  we  can 
sample  it  then." 

Ballou  hesitated,  then  burst  out  with  engaging  candor: 

"It's  awf'ly  decent  of  you,  Callendar,  to  let  me  come. 
I — I  hardly  know  how  to  thank  you.  It's  all  rather  unusual 
and  awkward,  but  I'd  like  to  tell  you  straight  from  the 
shoulder  I  haven't  a  thing  in  the  world  against  you." 

"  No  ?  "  queried  Jerry  drily, 

"  No,"  answered  Bret  naively.  "  Just  at  first,  of  course, 
I  did  see  everything  red,  as  any  chap  would  have  in  the 
same  circumstances.  But — we  won't  go  into  that.  There's 
no  good  in  post-mortems.  We  understand  each  other  with- 
out a  lot  of  fuss  and  talk';  we  can  hash  this  thing  out,  I 
hope,  and  still  be  gentlemen.  Above  everything,  I  appreciate 
the  step  you're  taking  in  asking  me  here." 


THE  HOUSE  OF  CALLENDAR  341 

"  Oh,"  said  Jerry,  and  he  made  his  face  quite  guileless, 
"  but  I'm  not  taking  any  step  at  all.  I'm  simply  not  stand- 
ing in  the  way  of  progress.  It's  come  to  me  lately  that, 
guarding  the  poor  child  too  closely,  I  was  standing  in  the 
way  of  progress,  since  nothing  could  develop  in  any  direc- 
tion." They  had  paused  before  the  bungalov\f  and  Bret 
offered  cigarettes. 

"  Thanks,"  Jerry  produced  his  own  match,  drew  a  light 
and  discarded  it  with  a  flip  of  the  fingers.  "And  now  here 
we  are,  with  nothing  to  interfere  in  a  final  analysis.  I  shall 
be  busy  with  my  secretary.  You  may  devote  yourself  to 
Joan  in  any  open,  honorable  way  you  see  fit."  He  made  a 
gesture.  "  Rien  est  plus  simple !  "  But  his  eyes  bent  upon 
his  rival  bore  the  gambling  look  of  a  brave  man.  "  Come, 
let  us  find  her !  " 

That  was  Bret's  initiation.  The  next  day  Jerry  had 
thrown  himself  into  the  business  of  the  new  play,  and  Lily, 
with  her  gold  hair  whipped  back  from  her  brow  by  the  salt 
wind,  sat  all  morning  beside  him  and  made  notes  in  short- 
hand. Yet  covertly,  as  she  worked  she  was  aware  of  Mrs. 
Callendar  and  the  handsome  stranger  starting  off  in  the 
roadster  which  Ballou  handled  like  a  toy.  How  it  dipped 
and  rose  among  the  heather)'-  hillocks,  how  frail  and 
frivolous  the  occupants  looked,  the  man  like  a  mechanical 
doll  behind  the  wheel  and  Mrs.  Callendar,  just  a  wisp  of 
dress  and  hair.  Each  day  the  same  thing  happened  and  the 
wheels  of  that  gray  roadster  made  grooves  in  Lily's  brain. 

Meanwhile  Joan  surrendered  to  the  distraction  of  the 
moment,  telling  herself,  "  Jerry  is  right.  I  must  find  out  if 
what  was  between  us  still  holds."  And  frantically  she  be- 
gan segregating  her  ideas  of  Ballou  and  pigeonholing  them. 
There  was  no  denying  his  generosity.  In  fact  she,  no  less 
than  Jerry,  was  often  quite  embarrassed  by  the  prodigality 
of  his  gifts  and  the  entertainment  that  he  planned  for  them. 


343  BLIND  WISDOM 

He  gave  a  picnic  that  they  might  meet  his  fashionable 
friends,  and  at  a  ravine  inland  produced  an  orchestra,  a 
chef  and  waiters,  and  actually  a  portable  dancing  floor. 
From  his  estates  in  Westchester  County  great  hampers  of 
fruit  and  vegetables  would  be  sent  to  the  Callendars.  Lily 
having  expressed  a  desire  for  a  new  typewriter,  one  was 
wafted  to  her  on  a  magic  carpet.  It  came  anonymously, 
and  Ballou  of  course  disclaimed  all  knowledge  of  it. 

He  was  sufficiently  wise  to  make  Joan  no  direct  personal 
gifts,  but  one  day  when  they  were  alone  he  casually  lifted 
a  string  of  pearls  from  his  pocket  and  showed  the  beautiful, 
milk-white  things  with  fire  trickling  through  the  heart  of 
them. 

"  Some  time,"  he  said  simply,  and  Joan  was  nearer  hon- 
estly liking  him  than  she  had  ever  been  before. 

By  some  unwritten  law  Jerry  left  them  together  morn- 
ings, but  when  Bret  called  in  the  afternoon  or  evening  he 
made  a  point  of  being  with  them,  and  the  four  walked  on 
the  beach  or  lounged  in  the  windy  brilliance  of  the  terrace. 
Again,  Jerry  chopped  wood  "  in  memory  of  Abraham  Lin- 
coln," Ballou,  arriving  from  the  links,  practised  with  his 
golf  sticks,  while  Joan  and  Lily  remained  decoratively  idle. 
They  had  made  Lily  one  of  them  and  in  her  frank  delight  at 
her  surroundings  her  superficial  faults  became  less  apparent, 
the  warp  of  her  real  worth  shone  through.  She  was  essen- 
tially of  a  duller  surface  than  Joan,  but,  quick  to  take  on  the 
color  of  her  surroundings,  she  might  have  belonged  to  a 
higher  walk  in  life.  When  she  apostrophized  the  sun- 
light, "  This  is  swell ! "  her  genuineness  disabused  her  of 
vulgarity.  She  watched  Joan  and  her  cavalier  with  no 
slight  interest,  swallowing  the  truth  in  incredulous  morsels. 
Once,  as  she  sat  tapping  at  the  new  machine,  Jerry  asked  her 
adroitly : 

"You  think  Ballou's  a  nice  chap,  eh,  Lily?** 


THE  HOUSE  OF  CALLENDAR  343 

Her  china-blue  eyes  narrowed  to  their  street-gamin  ex- 
pression of  shrewdness. 

"  What's  the  good  of  my  answerin'  ?  "  she  demanded  drily. 
"  You've  already  put '  yes '  in  my  mouth." 

Jerry  laughed. 

"  You  are  at  liberty  to  express  your  own  opinion." 

Lily  tapped  thoughtfully  on  the  letter  "  X  "  for  some  time, 
then  her  face  puckered  in  the  effort  to  clarify  her  meaning. 

"  Mmd  you,"  she  brought  out  at  last,  "  I'm  not  sayin' 
I  don't  like  him.  I  guess  any  one  would  like  Mr.  Ballou. 
He's  jest  an  out  and  out  stunner,  and  everything  he  does 
is  so  grand  and  swell  it  takes  your  breath  away.  But 
when  you  come  to  think  of  it  that  kind  of  being  generous 
doesn't  cost  him  anything.  I've  watched  an*  I've  seen  that 
when  it  means  a  real  effort  he's  sullen  as  a  schoolboy.  The 
other  day,  for  instance,  when  Mrs.  Callendar  said  she  was 
chokin'  for  a  drink  an'  wanted  he  should  go  to  the  well  with 
her  an'  help  fill  the  pail You  weren't  here " 

"  Well  ?  "  asked  Jerry  tensely. 

Lily  shrugged  her  shoulders  expressively. 

"After  she'd  asked  him  twice  he  pretended  he  was  asleep 
in  the  hammock,  an'  she  went  herself." 

"  But,  of  course,"  Jerry  pointed  out  with  justice,  "  he's 
never  had  to  do  such  things.  We  mustn't  be  too  hard  on 
him  for  that." 

"An'  I  can't  help  thinkin',"  went  on  Lily  unheeding, 
"what  a  lot  o'  frostin'  an'  what  a  little  piece  of  cake!" 
She  sat  back  stiffly.  "There,  you  asked  me  my  opinion, 
and  I've  given  it  to  you.  He's  Mrs.  Callendar's  friend,  isn't 
he?" 

"  The  friend  of  both  of  us,"  answered  Jerry  meaningly. 

Lying  in  the  grass  that  day  Joan  reviewed  in  detail  the 
past  two  weeks  since  the  advent  of  Bret.  Always  sensi- 
tively aware  of  the  bond  of  work  between  Lily  and  Jerry, 


344  BLIND  WISDOM 

she  had  been  careful  to  give  an  impression  of  great  absorp- 
tion. But  really  was  she  any  nearer  understanding  herself 
or  Bret?  Beside  her  in  the  undergrowth  the  late  summer 
insects  were  thrumming;  she  saw  a  frosty  green  grass- 
hopper climb  a  spear  of  silver,  hold  fast  with  his  delicate 
legs  and  rest  enraptured  with  the  sun,  still  as  a  bit  of  jade. 
Close  to  the  sand  the  dusty  miller  made  rosettes  of  gray 
and  lupines  trailed  like  a  souvenir  of  tlie  sea.  But  these 
exquisite  things  that  she  loved  had  to-day  no  power  to  in- 
trigue her.     Her  brain  throbbed  with  complexities.     .    .    . 

From  within  the  house  came  the  concise  clicking  of  Lily's 
interminable  machine.  It  had  gone  on  like  that  all  day,  and 
she  did  not  even  know  what  Jerry  was  writing.  She  was 
excluded.  He  had  forgotten  the  struggle  with  the  first 
play,  those  nights  when  they  would  write  and  rewrite  and 
drink  strong  coffee  to  keep  themselves  awake.  He  had  for- 
gotten how  she  had  been  his  tower  of  strength  when  his 
father  died. 

She  stood  upright  and  glanced  into  the  living-room. 
There  sat  Lily  at  work,  the  blue  frock  open  at  the  throat, 
showing  how  brown  she  was  become.  In  a  wicker  chair 
near  by  Jerry  sprawled  obliviously,  his  roughened  head 
against  a  cushion.  His  back  was  to  her,  but  he  faced  the 
table-desk  whereupon  was  a  bowl  of  the  same  blue  lupines 
that  grew  on  the  hillock.  Joan  had  not  put  them  there.  It 
was  Lily  then — a  shy  feminine  tribute.  As  Joan  watched 
in  pained  fascination  she  heard  Lily  speak.  Her  voice 
seemed  unusually  low  and  soft. 

"  I'm  glad  that  you  need  me ;  you've  no  idea  how  a  woman 
needs  to  be  needed ! " 

Simply  that.  There  was  no  reply.  The  typewriter 
clicked  on.  Jerry  still  rested  in  his  chair  with  his  eyes  on 
the  blue  flowers.  But  Joan,  suffering  the  fate  of  the  out- 
cast, stood  as  though  atrophied,  sudden  jealousy  twisting  her 


THE  HOUSE  OF  CALLENDAR  345 

soul.  "  '  You've  no  idea  how  a  woman  needs  to  be  needed !  * 
How  dared  she !  "  was  her  first  arrogant  thought,  but  her 
precepts  of  democracy  came  to  rebuke  her.  Men  and 
women  were  free  and  had  a  right  to  speak  what  was  in 
their  hearts.  She  believed  that,  and  what  she  believed  she 
must  stand  by.  But,  oh,  how  she  wished  that  Jerry  had  said 
he  needed  her!  Fearful  that  she  might  overhear  other  words 
to  wound  her,  she  rushed  crazily  down  the  hill,  with  the 
sunshine  black  about  her.  At  the  foot  of  it  she  met  Ballou, 
coming  from  the  golf  course  with  a  caddy  in  tow. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried  with  the  instinct  to  blunt  her  own  suf- 
fering sensibilities,  "  let's  go  somewhere,  to  the  beach,  any- 
where.    I'm  so  tired  of  everything." 

"  Righto !  "  He  swept  off  his  cap.  "  We'll  take  Mimi." 
(Mimi  was  his  roadster.) 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  not  Mimi.  I'd  like  to  walk  fifty  miles 
or  more  among  the  dunes.  My  mood  is  for  walking,  and  if 
you  can't  conform,  stand  aside.     '  I'm  a  desperate  woman !'  " 

"As  bad  as  that?"  He  ruefully  indicated  his  withered 
condition.  "  In  this  sun  ?  You  forget  I've  already  walked 
fifty  miles  or  more  to-day." 

She  argued  perversely. 

"  I  make  it  a  proof  of  devotion." 

"  No,  that  isn't  fair.     I'll  be  hanged  if  I  will." 

"  Very  well."  Her  face  went  suddenly  cold.  "  Good-bye, 
then." 

But  hardly  had  she  reached  the  heavy  sand  when  he  came 
plowing  after,  looking  so  martyred  that  she  laughed  in  spite 
of  herself. 

"  I  wanted  to  see  if  I  held  any  power.  Poor  boy,  now 
that  you've  given  in,  I  won't  make  you  walk  any  farther. 
Here,  let  us  collapse  in  the  sand,"  and  she  sank  Turk- 
fashion  to  a  sitting  posture.  Immediately  his  good  humor 
was  restored,  and  he  flung  himself  down  with  alacrity. 


346  BLIND  WISDOM 

"  Now  you're  like  a  southern  breeze  instead  of  a  little 
northern  iceberg.  Hang  it  all!  I  wish  the  time  would 
come  when  you'd  invite  me  to  walk  up  a  church  aisle. 
How  long,  oh,  Lord,  how  long?  " 

"Before  what?" 

"  Before  I  shall  have  you,  of  course." 

She  did  not  answer,  and  presently  he  burst  out: 

"  Twinkletoes,  I've  done  my  best.  I've  waited,  I've 
hoped,  I've  tried  to  respect  Callendar's  wishes.  But  I  warn 
you  I'm  not  the  sort  of  chap  who  plays  underdog  forever. 
He  said  that  you  must  have  a  year  to  be  sure  of  your  mind 
in  this  matter,  and  now  the  year  is  up.  I  confess  I'm  at  a 
loss  to  understand  your  attitude.  The  first  night  I  ever 
knew  you,  you  came  to  me  like  a  breeze — there  was  no 
analyzing  your  attitude  then.  But  now  you're  inscrutable 
as  a  sphinx.  You're  as  tepid  as  cold  tea.  You  keep  me 
always  at  arm's  length.  Have  you  grown  blase?  Is  it 
nothing  to  you  to  be  loved  as  intensely  as  I  love  you  ?  " 

She  asked  irrelevantly : 

"  Do  you  think  Lily  Gray  could  be  attractive  to  a  cultured 
man  ?  " 

"How  the  devil  should  I  know?  She  isn't  to  me.  I  must 
say  you're  maddening.  Here  I  work  myself  into  a  frenzy 
and  all  the  satisfaction  I  get  is  to  have  you  ask  me  a  ques- 
tion like  that ! " 

She  turned  remorseful. 

"  I'm  sorry,  Bret,  and  I  was  listening,  only  that  thought 
crept  in.     Shall  I  tell  you  the  truth  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  a  novelty  to  hear  it." 

"  Then  here  it  is.  At  times  I  am  dangerously  near  being 
thrilled  by  you,  but  I  won't  give  way  to  that,  so  long  as  I'm 
in  doubt  that  we're  real  companions.  I  remember  once 
Jerry  gave  me  a  test  for  love  that  ran  something  like  this, 
'  Do  you  admire  his  brain,  is  he  physically  attractive  to  you, 


THE  HOUSE  OF  CALLENDAR  347 

are  you  comrades  ?  '  This  last  question  I  can't  answer,  be- 
cause I  keep  wondering  what  you  are  like  and  in  all  these 
weeks  I  haven't  found  out.  Since  I've  grown  older  it  seems 
to  me  we  began  at  the  wrong  end  to  build  our  house  of  love. 
We  put  up  the  first  and  second  stories  without  any  substan- 
tial foundation,  and  now  that  we're  living  on  the  precarious 
heights  I  keep  wanting  to  go  down  to  the  bottom  and 
strengthen  the  supports." 

"  Meaning?  "  he  almost  wailed. 

"We've  been  lovers,  Bret,  but  have  we  been  friends?** 
The  voice  was  gently  ruminative.  "As  I  said  before,  I  don't 
know  what  you're  like." 

"  What  I'm  like  ? "  he  cried  sincerely.  "  Oh,  does  it 
matter  so  much  when  a  man  and  woman  love  each  other? 
It  might  matter  to  some  one  like  Jerry,  who's  a  blue  stock- 
ing and  past  the  first  fire  of  youth,  but,  good  heavens,  we're 
young,  we've  blood  in  our  veins  and  not  distilled  water." 

In  spite  of  herself  she  was  swayed  by  his  virility. 

"If  you  loved  me  as  you  say  you  do,  you  would  be 
anxious  to  strengthen  the  supports,  to  help  me  know  my 
own  mind." 

"  I  am  anxious.  What  do  you  want  to  know  about  my 
life?    Catechise  me,  and  I'll  tell  you  everything." 

"  But  I  couldn't  do  that." 

"Very  well,  then,"  his  ruddy  face  took  on  a  humorous 
twist,  "  I'll  beg^n.  Once  upon  a  time  there  was  bom  a  bad 
little  boy  named  Bret  Ballou." 

"  Oh,"  she  interrupted,  "  you're  incorrigible.  Seriously, 
Bret,  marriage  is  a  problem,  and  in  my  family  it  hasn't 
proven  easy  to  solve." 

"  Perhaps  none  of  your  family  married  for  love?  " 

"  You're  wrong.  My  sister  Claire  married  for  just  that, 
and  her  marriage  promises  to  be  the  worst  of  the  lot.  She 
and  her  actor  husband,  who,  by  the  way,  is  Jerry's  leading 


348  BLIND  WISDOM 

man,  live  a  hectic  life  of  jealousy:  Only  yesterday  I  had  a 
letter  from  my  mother  saying  that  Claire  and  Ridgely  had 
quarreled  over  an  actress  in  the  company  and  Claire  had 
been  home.     That's  the  beginning,  don't  you  see  ?  " 

She  suddenly  fixed  Ballou  with  disturbing  eyes. 

"  Bret,  what  are  your  aspirations  ?  " 

"  I  have  none,  except  to  marry  you," 

But  underneath  the  tone  of  raillery  Joan  thought  that 
possibly  he  spoke  the  truth.  What  she  had  discovered 
during  their  weeks  of  association  was  simply  that  he  had  a 
flair  for  enjoyment.  Was  this  to  be  utterly  condemned? 
She  liked  people  to  be  thorough,  even  if  it  was  only  about 
having  a  good  time.  And  that  insidious  black  fear  was  in 
her  heart  that,  after  all,  Jerry's  affection  was  unstable. 
She  remembered  him  at  his  desk  in  the  sunshine  with  the 
little  blue  bowl  of  flowers  that  Lily  had  arranged,  and  she 
heard  Lily's  words,  "  I'm  glad  that  you  need  me." 

"  Bret,"  she  whispered  in  her  loneliness,  "  please  make 
me  care." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 
THE  RIGHT  TO  HAPPINESS 

The  September  night  was  of  violet  and  sapphire.  It  was 
as  though  it  had  drunk  up  the  color  of  the  sea  and  grown 
heady  with  it. 

Joan  had  lighted  candles  which  burned  with  a  yellow 
blaze,  but  the  room  was  all  windows  and  through  them 
the  magic  color  of  the  night  prevailed,  as  pure  and  deep  as 
the  skies  of  the  Arctic.  All  during  supper  the  four  had 
been  unconsciously  beneath  the  spell  of  that  beauty;  it 
was  pervasive,  disturbing.  Talk  drifted  like  the  fantastic 
threads  of  smoke  from  the  cigarettes  of  the  two  men.  And 
yet  an  alert  consciousness  was  in  the  air.  It  was  as  though 
they  recognized  the  night  as  a  setting  for  drama,  recognized 
themselves  as  the  pawns  of  some  inscrutable  director;  each 
waited  for  his  cue  to  go  on.  From  far  away  came  the 
murmur  of  the  restive  sea  like  the  applause  or  lamentation 
of  a  ghostly  audience.  Joan's  frock  was  white,  and  where 
she  sat  by  the  table  knitting  she  suggested  fire  and  ice,  for 
candle-light  claimed  the  mound  of  orange-colored  yarn  in 
her  lap  and  outlined  one-half  of  her  glowingly,  while  on  the 
other  side  the  indigo  twilight  reached  for  her  with  frosty 
fingers. 

Lily  was  seated  at  the  casement  with  her  dull  gold 
head  against  the  jamb  of  the  window  and  might  have  been 
some  shabby  Cinderella  in  Fairyland.  She  did  not  speak, 
having  learned  the  value  of  silence,  but  nothing  of  the  dis- 
course was  lost  upon  her.  Jerry  and  Ballou  held  the  centre 
of  the  stage  and  were  discussing  the  right  to  happiness. 


350  BLIND  WISDOM 

"  Of  course,"  Ballou  was  pressing  somewliat  heatedly, 
"  happiness  is  every  man's  inalienable  right." 

Jerry  smoked  for  a  time  in  silence  before  he  answered. 

"  That's  a  companion  to  the  platitude  'AH  men  are  created 
free  and  equal.*  Also  it  is  suggestively  ruthless.  Suppose 
the  right  to  happiness  becomes  your  doctrine.  Is  it  a  good 
doctrine  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  countered  Ballou  defiantly.  "  It's  at  least 
a  strong  one." 

In  her  chair  Joan  stirred  sharply.  She  had  a  strained  ex- 
pression in  her  eyes  as  though  it  were  her  guardian  angel 
listening.  She  reviewed  in  that  fraction  of  a  second  all 
evidence  Bret  had  given  in  support  of  his  contention.  Was 
that  not  what  he  had  argued  before  she  married  Jerry? 
That  the  world  owed  him  happiness?  And  did  not  this 
alleged  right  to  happiness  presuppose  he  would  take  what 
he  wanted?  No  wonder  her  intuition  had  warned  her  of 
danger.  She  felt  certain  now  that  he  would  not  have  hesi- 
tated to  obtain  happiness  at  her  spiritual  expense. 

But  Jerry  was  arguing  leisurely. 

"  I  question  even  that ;  it's  lawless." 

"  Oh,  come  now,  Callendar,  you're  forever  berating  the 
idealists  as  a  cruel  bunch.  And  now  you  contradict  your- 
self. The  rule  of  the  universe  from  the  animal  kingdom 
up  is  survival  of  the  fittest." 

Jerry  spoke  with  his  cigarette  between  his  teeth. 

"  But  when  a  social  consciousness  was  aroused  man  left 
off  being  an  animal,  and  now  it  is  the  ethically  fit  who 
sacrifice  themselves  for  others.  No,  Ballou,  your  inalien- 
able right  is  only  to  as  much  happiness  as  you  can  have 
without  robbing  your  fellow-man." 

"  But  supposing  it  isn't  robbing  him  in  the  real  sense," 
Lily  cut  in  unexpectedly,  and  it  seemed  that  she  too  was  de- 
ciding some  point  for  all  time,  "  only  in  the— the  legal  one  ?  '* 


^     THE  RIGHT  TO  HAPPINESS  351 

There  was  a  stunned  silence.  Ballou  glanced  covertly 
at  Joan,  who  continued  to  knit  steadily,  her  dark  head  bent. 
Then  Jerry  said  impersonally : 

"I'm  presuming  you  have  in  mind  the  commandment, 
'  Thou  shalt  not  covet  thy  neighbor's  wife,'  etc.  Covetous- 
ness  is  always  contemptible.  On  the  other  hand,  what  is 
really  mine  no  man  can  take  from  me.  I  can  take  from  no 
man  what  is  really  his.  And  there  are  exceptional  cases 
where  it  is  self-evident  that  whom  one  man  is  holding  under 
a  lawful  claim  belongs  to  another.  In  such  cases  I  say  the 
happiness  of  two  persons  is  more  important  than  the  happi- 
ness of  one.  That  is  where  convention  and  sentiment  do 
seem  to  me  unnecessarily  cruel." 

"Ah,"  breathed  Ballou  more  easily.  *'  Now  you're  becom- 
ing human!  But  I'm  afraid,  my  dear  fellow,  that  your 
doctrine  is  not  consistent." 

At  her  casement  seat  Lily  Gray  had  turned  again  to  the 
night,  her  bosom  rising  and  falling  with  suppressed  excite- 
ment, a  little  smile  at  the  corners  of  her  lips. 

"  You  think  not  ?  "  mused  Jerry.  "  Perhaps  I  should  tell 
you  more  explicitly  what  it  is  I  believe — my  religion,  we'll 
say.  Well,  then,  I  believe  this:  I  believe  in  consideration. 
That  seems  to  me  the  sum  and  substance  of  virtue.  If  I 
were  ever  to  found  a  lodge  I  should  call  my  chosen  order 
of  fellows  '  The  Considerates,'  and  each  of  them  should 
wear  the  letter  *  C '  as  a  reminder.  For,  has  it  ever  oc- 
curred to  you,  if  all  persons  were  considerate  what  a  blissful 
spot  this  old  world  would  be  to  live  in?  " 

"  Humph,"  said  Ballou.     "  That's  an  odd  idea." 

"  Yes,  isn't  it  ?  For  instance,  if  people  were  considerate, 
they  wouldn't  let  themselves  grow  fat,  take  up  too  much 
room,  consume  more  than  their  share,  make  themselves 
public  nuisances.  Nor  would  they  drink  too  much,  squander 
too  much,  of  what  others  have  produced.     Capital  would  be 


352  *  BLIND  WISDOM 

considerate  of  labor,  labor  would  consider  capital,  men 
would  consider  other  men's  happiness  and  never  endanger 
it.  And  to  any  vital  act  in  life  we  would  give  long  and 
prayerful  consideration." 

For  the  second  time  Joan  lifted  her  head  and  moved  rest- 
lessly, but  strangely  enough  her  look  passed  beyond  the  two 
engrossed  men  to  rest  upon  Lily  Gray,  become  suddenly  a 
human  enigma.  That  figure  expressed  a  new  complacency, 
a  new  strength  of  optimism. 

"  Heigho ! "  Jerry  rose  and  stretched  himself  with  an  air 
of  discarding  sententiousness.  "What  an  Arabian  night! 
It  makes  a  man  feel  like  Haroun  al  Raschid.  Come  to  the 
window,  Ballou,  and  see  the  Bagdad  effects.  By  Jove,  it's 
a  crime  to  be  maundering  indoors  on  a  night  like  this.     If 

it  wasn't  for  the  exigencies  of  my  profession "     He 

glanced  significantly  toward  his  desk.  "  But  there's  no 
reason  why  you  and  Joan  shouldn't  enjoy  it.  There's  the 
moon  on  the  water.  Look  at  that  thin  wafer  pasted  in  the 
sky.     Why  don't  you  take  your  chairs  outside  ?  " 

Joan  let  her  knitting  fall  into  disrepute;  even  the  cheek 
which  was  turned  to  the  twilight  flushed  rose-red. 

**  We  accept  the  dismissal !  "  she  said  quickly. 

"  Dismissal  ?  Nonsense.  You  know  Lily  and  I  always 
work  an  hour  in  the  evening." 

Joan  rose,  quivering  as  though  he  had  struck  her.  Lily 
was  supematurally  still. 

"  Say  no  more.  We're  happy  to  oblige  you,  are  we  not, 
Bret?  You  shall  have  your  quiet  hour,  quite  uninterrupted. 
And  is  there  perhaps  any  particular  time  that  you  would 
wish  us  to  return?  Because  that  too  might  be  arranged." 
It  was  the  second  time  in  his  life  that  Jerry  had  seen  her 
aroused,  and  he  experienced  a  curious  and  secret  elation. 
It  was  colossal,  this  chance  he  took  of  restoring  her  to  her 
senses,  of  winning  her  in  the  fairest  way,  or  losing  her 


THE  RIGHT  TO  HAPPINESS  '^  '353 

utterly.  It  made  his  head  swim.  He  smiled  upon  hei: 
gipsy  tempest. 

"  I'm  only  wanting  my  loss  to  be  your  gain,  child !  It 
would  be  infamous  to  subject  you  both  to  Lily's  tapping." 

"You're  quite  right,  Callendar,"  seconded  Bret  in  high 
good  humor.  "And  now  we're  both  consistent.  You  ad- 
here to  your  code  of  unselfishness  and  I — I  claim  my  inalien- 
able right  to  happiness.  But  I  warn  you  I  won't  be  re- 
sponsible for  my  conduct,  not  on  a  night  like  this." 

"I  accept  the  risk,"  cried  Joan  recklessly;  "we'll  go  tp 
the  beach  and  become  moon-mad.    I'll  race  you  down." 

She  flung  back  a  proud  head  and  gave  Jerry  the  full 
battery  of  her  eyes.  Unconsciously  he  put  out  a  detaining 
hand. 

"  The  beach  ?  But  isn't  that  rather  far  to-night  ?  You've 
complained  of  being  tired." 

She  laughed  insolently. 

"  No  distance  is  too  far  for  me  to  go.    Come,  Bret." 

Through  the  window  Jerry  saw  her  white  frock  fluttering 
like  a  will-o'-the-wisp  down  the  silvery  path  in  the  moon- 
light, and  thought,  "  Confound  it,  I  didn't  mean  she  should 
take  him  there."  He  had  hoped  only  that  Ballou  might 
make  a  premature  appeal  and  be  turned  down.  But  what 
if  he  had  thrust  her  deliberately  into  danger  or  precipitated 
a  false  decision?  The  dim  terrace  was  one  thing,  the  lonely 
beach  another.  He  felt  impelled  to  follow  and  rescue  his 
lost  lamb.  But  that  would  be  showing  his  hand.  Beside, 
there  was  Lily,  and  he  could  not  bear  that  Lily  should  be- 
lieve Joan  unworthy  of  trust. 

"  I'm  ready,  Mr.  Callendar,"  said  a  dulcet  voice  behind 
him  and  the  former  tapped  an  idle  key.  "  Hadn't  we  better 
begin?" 

"Oh,  of  course,  to  be  sure.  Where  did  we  leave  off?" 
If  his  voice  was  inflectionless  Lily  did  not  notice.    Her  own 


354  BLIND  WISDOM 

was  giving  her  trouble.    Whenever  there  was  a  pause  in 
the  dictation  it  would  break  into  song. 

Joan  was  quite  out  of  breath  when  at  length  Ballou  came 
up  beside  her  in  the  cup-shaped  space  between  the  dunes. 
Yet  she  had  often  run  the  distance  without  perceptible 
fatigue.  She  stood  wraith-like  in  the  milk-white  sand,  her 
hand  to  her  breast  and  her  head  with  its  nimbus  of  light 
tilted  back  like  that  of  a  flower.  The  spears  of  dune  grass 
swayed  above  her  and  etched  themselves  in  a  myriad  lines 
against  the  sky.  And  there  through  the  opening  shone  the 
radiant  beach. 

In  the  soft  breeze  the  sands  were  rising  and  changing 
place.  They  broke  against  her  feet  with  a  sibilance  like 
snow.  She  seemed  in  subtle  communion  with  the  night. 
Ballou,  resenting  her  strangeness,  touched  her  experi- 
mentally. 

"  Don't  look  like  that,  Twinkletoes,"  he  entreated  ear- 
nestly, "it's  uncanny." 

"  I  feel  uncanny." 

He  shuffled  uneasily. 

"  I  don't  understand." 

**  You  wouldn't,"  and  she  quoted  irrelevantly : 

"  Round  the  cape  of  a  sudden  came  the  sea. 
And  the  sun  looked  over  the  mountain's  rim; 
And  straight  was  a  path  of  gold  for  him. 
And  the  need  of  a  world  of  men  for  me." 

"What's  that?"  he  demanded  irritably,  "and  what's  it 
got  to  do  with  us  ?  " 

"  Us  ?  "  she  countered  wildly.    "  Us  ?    Why  '  us '  ?  " 

His  face  twitched  sensitively.     Her  ridicule  hurt  him. 

"  I  say,  Joan,  possibly  you  are  subject  to  these — er — 
flights  of  fancy,  but  if  so  I  wish  you'd  reserve  them  for 


THE  RIGHT  TO  HAPPINESS  355 

some  other  time.  Please  try  to  remember  that  I  served  my 
apprenticeship  with  that  sort  of  thing  for  years.  I'm — I'm 
rather  fed  up." 

There  was  no  indication  that  she  heard  him  and  he  began 
again,  more  persuasively. 

"  See  here,  darling,  what  did  you  make  of  Callendar 
chasing  us  out  like  that,  bundling  us  off  like  a  couple  of 
kids  that  were  de  tropf  Didn't  you  think  he,  wanted  to  get 
rid  of  us?  Didn't  it  occur  to  you  he  was  in  pretty  much 
of  a  hurry  for  us  to  patch  things  up  and  get  out  ?  " 

"  He  wanted  to  work,"  she  said  coldly. 

"Oh,  no,  it  wasn't  altogether  that."  He  caught  her 
arm.  *'  You  know  better.  You  were  the  first  to  resent  it. 
Your  eyes  betrayed  exactly  what  you  were  thinking;  your 
pride  was  wounded.  And,  after  all,"  Bret  went  on  with 
a  measure  of  justice,  "  the  poor  chap  has  a  right  to  rebel. 
A  saint  would  hardly  have  stood  for  what  he  has  this  past 
year.  No  one  would  believe  it  if  you  told  them.  By  Jove, 
I  wouldn't  believe  it  myself  if  I  didn't  know,  otherwise,  he 
wouldn't  permit  me  here  now.  Don't  you  think  it's  time 
you  gave  him  back  his  freedom  ?  " 

In  the  moonlight  she  was  still  as  a  figure  of  marble,  await- 
ing some  further  revealment.  And  the  unsuspecting  young 
man  did  not  disappoint  her. 

"  Oh,  he  put  it  plainly  enough  when  he  said  that  about 
its  being  sometimes  self-evident  that  whom  one  man  is 
holding  under  a  legal  claim  belongs  to  another."  He  put 
his  arms  impulsively  about  her  and  she  heard  his  heart 
beating  hard.  "  Joan,  he's  been  square  with  us.  Let's  be 
square  with  him.  Let's  give  him  a  chance  to  extricate 
himself.  We  could  start  to-night.  My  yacht's  in  commis- 
sion at  Newport  and  ready  to  sail  to  Timbuctoo !  Think  of 
us  under  a  yellow  moon  in  the  South  Sea.  Not  a  care  in 
the  world,  and  no  destination  but  happiness.    In  the  mean- 


3S6  BLIND  WISDOM 

time  Callendar  would  have  tended  to  the  legal  part  of  it, 
and  when  we  returned  we  could  be  married." 

Even  as  she  freed  herself  she  was  soriy  for  Bret,  who 
had  been  tricked  into  his  undoing.  What  she  had  waited 
to  hear  she  had  heard,  and  at  last  she  knew  why  her  girl- 
hood's love  for  him  had  died.  It  was  because  what  she 
had  secretly  suspected  for  a  long  time  was  true.  Now  at 
last  she  dared  put  it  into  words.  He  had  wooed  her,  know- 
ing her  to  be  in  ignorance  of  his  marriage  tie;  when  she 
learned  the  truth  he  had  refused  to  divorce  his  wife.  He 
had  deliberately  planned  to  take  his  "  inalienable  right  to 
happiness"  at  the  expense  of  her  youth  and  inexperience. 
When  she  had  become  the  legal  property  of  another  man 
he  had  clamored  more  than  ever  to  possess  her,  and,  last 
of  all,  this  suggestion ! 

"  No,  Bret,"  she  said  decisively,  "  you  are  mistaken  in 
Jerry  Callendar,  and  you  are  mistaken  in  me.  The  reason 
he  consented  to  the  year  we  have  spent  was  because  he 
wished  to  protect  me  from  taking  a  rash  step,  from  danger. 
I  think  he  would  kill  you  if  you  were  to  take  me  in  the  way 
you  suggest.  Beside,"  a  prophetic  light  had  come  to  her 
eyes,  "  I  don't  want  to  go ;  I  find  I  don't  want  ever  to  be- 
long to  you." 

She  too  breathed  hard,  but  in  mighty  exultation.  She 
knew  now  whom  she  loved.  And  instinct,  the  great  inner 
voice,  had  warned  her  not  to  throw  herself  away  in  a  fit 
of  pique.    Why,  she  was  not  even  her  own  to  give. 

"  What  is  between  Jerry  and  me  is  ours ;  we  have  our  de- 
cisions to  make  and  no  one  can  help  us.  Between  you  and 
me  there  is  nothing.  You  see,"  her  face  cleared  as  her 
thought  became  crystallized  into  words,  "  always  since  I 
was  a  girl  I  have  had  Jerry,  and  I  did  not  know  how  to 
appreciate  him.  I  had  no  perspective  on  him  as  a  man. 
It  was  not  until  I  could  study  you  both  side  by  side  that  I 


THE  RIGHT  TO  HAPPINESS  357 

realized  what  he  stood  for,  what  he  meant  to  me.  And  I 
know  now  that  I  have  always  belonged  to  him  and  always 
shall,  whether  we  stay  together  or  not." 

Ballou's  impulse  was  to  shake  her,  to  somehow  break 
down  that  calm  finality.  He  was  in  a  rage  at  his  own  im- 
potence. 

"Great  God,  you  can't  mean  what  you've  been  saying. 
You  can't  kick  me  aside  like  an  old  slipper  after  my  months 
of  waiting.  I  just  plain  won't  stand  for  it,"  and,  indigna- 
tion mounting,  "  You  say  I  compare  unfavorably  with  Cal- 
lendar!  Then  remember  this,  I've  been  a  frank  pleasure- 
seeker  all  my  life.  By  George,  it's  something  of  a  virtue  to 
make  no  pretense  of  any ! " 

She  held  out  her  hand. 

"  I  don't  condemn  you,  Bret.  I  only  say  we  are  not  for 
each  other." 

"  Whatever  my  faults,"  he  cried,  unheeding,  "  I've  been 
sincere  in  wanting  you." 

"  I  believe  it.  And,  if  it  wouldn't  seem  trite,  I'd  like  to 
ask  that  we  remain  friends.  I  understand  you  now,  and 
in  that  way  I  might  have  something  to  give." 

He  dug  his  hands  into  his  pockets. 

"Thanks,  but  I  don't  want  half  a  loaf."  Then,  still 
deeply  incredulous  that  what  he  most  desired  he  was  un- 
empowered  to  win,  "  Think  well,  Joan !  I'd  lay  the  world 
at  your  feet." 

Suddenly  she  closed  her  eyes  to  shut  out  that  feverish 
face  with  its  awful  look  of  bafflement. 

"  I'm  sorry,  Bret,  but  you  lose,"  she  said  simply.  "  My 
love  is  beyond  my  power  to  control.  It's  held  in  sway  by  a 
higher  force,  a  something  called  *  blind  wisdom.* " 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 
IN  WHICH  LILY  TELLS  A  LIE 

It  was  almost  midnight  when  Lily  tapped  at  Joan's  door. 
Both  girls  were  in  their  night-dresses  and  the  sighing  breeze 
blew  their  loosened  hair  about  their  shoulders. 

"  I  saw  your  light,"  said  Lily  in  apology,  "  and  I  want 
to  borrow  your  cold  cream.  But  more  than  all  I  want  to 
talk  to  you." 

"  Come  in  then,"  bade  Joan  quietly  and,  seating  herself  on 
the  bed,  drew  a  negligee  about  her  shoulders.  "Are  you 
cold?  There's  a  bath  robe  behind  the  door."  She  spoke 
kindly,  but  curiously.  Even  in  her  moments  of  jealousy  she 
had  never  found  anything  to  dislike  in  Lily. 

"Thanks,"  acknowledged  Lily  and,  drawing  down  the 
heavy  wrap,  proceeded  to  swathe  herself  in  it.  She  seated 
herself  timidly  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.  "  I  was  going  to  ask 
you  if  it  was  nice  at  the  beach." 

"  Yes,  it  was  very  lovely,  but  I  felt  it  rather  than  saw  it." 

"  You  weren't  noticin',  I  suppose." 

*'  Perhaps,  I  was  thinking  of  some  one  else." 

Lily  smiled  dreamily.  She  touched  Joan  impulsively  as 
she  sat  with  her  silk-clad  knees  drawn  to  her  chin. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Callendar,"  she  burst  out  at  length,  "  we're 
just  two  women,  an'  we're  both  honest,  an'  sometimes  I 
wish  I  dared  speak  out  to  you." 

Brown  eyes  met  blue  sympathetically. 

"  And  why  shouldn't  you,  Lily  ?  I'm  sure  there's  nothing 
to  prevent  it.    I  mean,  I'll  be  glad  to  listen." 

Lily  sighed  eloquently. 


IN  WHICH  LILY  TELLS  A  LIE  359 

"  Honor  bright,  now  ?  You  wouldn't  get  mad  or  think  me 
fresh?" 

"  I  think,"  Joan  returned  the  pressure  of  her  hand,  "  it's 
always  best  to  be  frank.  No  one  can  resent  frankness,"  but 
she  was  vaguely  apprehensive. 

"  And  it  ain't — it  isn't  as  if  you  made  any  pretensions,'* 
Lily  justified  herself  hurriedly.  "Both  you  an'  Mr  Cal- 
lendar  are  too  honest  for  that." 

"  W-what  do  you  mean,  Lily  ?  '* 

Lily's  face  crimsoned,  and  she  exploded  helplessly : 

"  Too  honest  to  pretend  it's  anything  but  a  make-believe 
marriage  from  the  start." 

"  You  mustn't  say  that."  Joan  did  not  quite  know  why 
the  words  came  to  her,  unless  it  was  that  the  truth  smote 
her  intolerably. 

"  Oh,  but  it's  so,  o'  course,  an'  I'm  glad,  I'm  glad,  I'm 
glad."  Lily  was  growing  hysterical.  "  Why,  when  I  sup- 
posed it  was  the  other  way,  I  was  that  heart-broken  I  wanted 
to  die.  I  had  to  keep  smotherin'  and  chokin'  down  and 
denyin'  how  I  felt  for  him,  an'  I'd  almost  made  myself 
believe  I  didn't  care  when  I  came  down  here  this  sirnimer." 
A  sob  caught  her.  "An'  then  straight  away  there  was  Mr. 
Ballou,  an'  even  if  there  hadn't  'a'  been  I  could  'a'  seen  that, 
although  you  two  were  good  an'  kind  to  one  another,  there 
was  nothing  in  back  of  it.  Oh,  Gawd,  how  happy  that  made 
me,  for  I  liked  you,  too,  Joan  Wister,  an'  I  wouldn't  'a'  done 
anything  to  hurt  you.  But  when  I  saw  how  it  was  with  you 
an'  this  Ballou  man,  I  knew  right  away  a  bust-up  was  comin*, 
an'  I  sez " 

"  Yes,  yes,  what  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  I  sez  thank  Gawd  I  can  act  my  nateral  self  again,  an' 
kin  go  on  lovin'  him  like  I  did  in  the  start.  I  don't  suppose 
you  can  understand  what  Mr.  Callendar's  been  to  me  all 
these  years  ?  " 


36o  BLIND  WISDOM 

She  paused  for  a  reply,  but  as  there  was  only  Joan's 
white  listening  face,  she  went  on  more  controUedly : 

"  From  the  day  when  my  father  was  buried  an'  Mr. 
Callendar  took  me  to  town,  I  sez  to  myself,  '  I  guess  he's 
God,'  an'  after  that  I  never  said  my  prayers  'cept  to  him. 
You  think  that  was  wicked?  I  don't  care  what  any  one 
thinks,  that  was  how  I  felt  toward  him.  An'  all  the  years 
in  the  law  office  he  sorter  watched  over  me,  not  in  the  fresh 
way  other  men  philander,  but  like  a  big  brother'd  do.  An' 
he  tried  so  hard  to  have  me  alius  dress  an'  talk  like  a  lady. 
Well,  you  kin  see  fer  yourself  how  he's  been  down  here. 
An'  when  he  says,  *  Lily,  wash  the  powder  from  your  face,'  I 
wash  it,  an'  if  he  was  to  say,  '  Go  drown  yourself,'  I'd 
go  do  it." 

Joan  reached  for  the  counterpane  and  drew  it  about  her, 
for  she  was  very  cold ;  her  only  physical  sensation  was  one 
of  numbness.     She  tried  to  speak  in  a  reasonable,  kind  way. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  he's  always  like  that.  He's  beautiful,  if 
you  can  say  that  of  a  man,  but  you  haven't  believed  exactly, 
— that  is,  you  haven't  felt  he  was  caring  for  you  in  the 
way  that " 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  you  mean ! "  Lily  flung  back  her  head 
defiantly,  and  her  eyes  swam  tears,  but  Joan  interrupted  her 
with  what  was  in  reality  a  plea  for  mercy. 

"  Before  you  answer,  Lily,  give  it  good  consideration, 
think,  try  to  think,  if  he  has  ever  said,  or  shown — that  kind 
of  caring.  Speak  honestly  from  your  intuition — ^your  deep 
woman's  wisdom." 

The  intensity  of  her  eyes  frightened  Lily,  and  kept  her 
silent  a  long  time.  But  greater  yet  was  her  fright  when, 
having  catechised  her  soul,  she  found  no  supporting  evi- 
dence of  Jerry's  love  for  her.  The  flush  that  suffused  her 
cheeks  was  one  of  fierce  pride  and  tenacity.  She  was  be- 
trayed into  a  pitfall  of  untruth. 


IN  WHICH  LILY  TELLS  A  LIE  361 

"A  woman  can't  never  prove  to  another  woman  that  a 
man  loves  her.  But  she  knows  when  it  happens,  jest  like 
you  know  when  a  clock  strikes." 

Joan  put  out  a  supplicating  hand. 

"  Please  say  no  more."  She  turned  and  put  her  face 
against  the  pillow,  closing  her  eyes.  The  cool  linen  seemed 
to  ease  her  pain.  She  saw  it  all  quite  clearly  now.  During 
this  year  she  had  denied  herself  to  Jerry  he  had  turned  more 
and  more  to  Lily,  little  illiterate,  undenying  Lily,  who  loved 
him  with  her  heart  and  soul. 

"  I  didn't  suppose  it  would  do  any  harm,"  said  Lily  pen- 
sively, "  jest  to  let  you  know  I'm  waitin'  for  my  chance, 
same's  Mr.  Ballou  is  waitin'  for  his." 

Mr.  Ballou !  Lily  could  not  know  that  an  hour  before  he 
had  left  precipitately  in  the  gray  roadster,  that  he  would 
never  come  back.  Suddenly  Joan  rose  and  put  her  arms 
about  Lily;  she  trembled  as  she  did  so. 

"  I'm  glad  that  you  had  the  courage  to  tell  me,"  she  said 
bravely.  "  It  was  fine  and  straight  of  you,  and  I  shall  not 
give  you  cause  to  regret  it.  But  it's  all  come  rather  suddenly 
upon  me,  and,  if  you  please,  I  should  like  to  think.  Will  you 
go  now  ?  " 

Lily  moved  tearfully  toward  the  door. 

"  Sure  you're  not  angry  with  me  ?  " 

"  Quite  sure." 

But  as  Lily  turned  the  handle  something  cried  aloud  in 
Joan  to  detain  her,  to  probe  more  deeply  into  her  intuitive 
proof  of  Jerry's  regard. 

*'  Lily  ?  "  she  appealed. 

"What  is  it?" 

"  N-nothing,"  Joan  capitulated  miserably.  "  You've  for- 
gotten— the  cold  cream." 

After  Lily  had  gone,  Joan  goaded  herself  to  realization. 


362  BLIND  WISDOM 

But  at  first  no  tears  came ;  she  felt  too  lonely  and  cold  and 
dull  to  shed  them.  She  never  knew  how  long  she  sat  hud- 
dled in  bed  with  the  sense  of  loss  upon  her,  saying  over  and 

over,   "If "     "If  I  had  been  different   in  the  first 

place "    "  If  I  had  been  affectionate,"    "  If  I  had  never 

seen  Bret,"  "If "    "If "    "If !"    And  the 

little  word  of  two  letters  burned  itself  upon  her  brain  as  the 
most  forlorn  in  the  language. 

Oh,  the  irony  of  it,  that  simultaneously  with  her  discovery 
it  was  Jerry  to  whom  she  belonged  had  come  this  other,  that 
Jerry  had  turned  to  a  simpler  creature  than  herself,  whose 
love  gushed  gladly.  Yet  it  was  curious  how  her  mind  reeled 
back  from  acceptance,  arguing  against  her  own  annihilation, 
"  It  can't  be  that  he  cares  for  Lily,  that  he  prefers  her — 
when  I'm  capable  of  loving  him  with  my  whole  heart  and 

imagination "    "  But  he  doesn't  know  that,"  rebuked 

Justice,  "  and  Lily  may  reveal  qualities  you  have  never 
shown " 

And  she  thought  it  was  possibly  Lily  he  had  had  in  mind 
when  he  admonished : 

"  Never  condemn  one  for  a  lack  of  taste.  We  can't  aH 
cultivate  the  aesthetic  sense.'* 

He  had  said  that  he  needed  Lily ;  there  was  the  evidence 
of  her  own  ears  for  that !  Alone  in  the  dead  of  night,  she 
knew  no  way  to  shield  her  soul  from  the  very  degradation 
of  sorrow.  The  sisters.  Pain  and  Longing,  gradually  dis- 
mantled her  heart;  never  before  had  it  been  without  some 
light  corner  or  pleasant  furnishing.  But  now  it  seemed  she 
could  no  longer  abide  in  her  impoverished  house.  Death 
would  have  been  a  panacea,  but  Death  too  preferred  others. 
She  groped  for  any  companionship  in  her  dark  hour,  but 
the  human  soul  is  an  unallied  thing  and  in  moments  of  sor- 
row must  stand  alone. 

At  length,  ashamed  of  her  cowardice,  she  brought  her 


IN  WHICH  LILY  TELLS  A  LIE  363 

faculties  to  the  point  of  contemplated  action,  and  found  a 
forlorn  comfort  in  the  thought  that  she  loved  him  more 
than  herself,  and  was  capable  of  giving  him  happiness  at  the 
cost  of  her  own.  She  must  be  clever  to  hoodwink  him,  she 
must  leave  him  no  doubt  of  the  course  she  had  taken,  so 
that  he  should  feel  free,  justified- 

Rummaging,  she  found  stationery  and  a  pencil  and  set  to 
work  composing.  But  now  and  then  she  would  throw  her- 
self brokenly  upon  the  floor,  whispering,  "  Oh,  my  beloved, 
my  very  dear,  how  can  I  give  you  up  ?  " 

She  would  creep  to  the  wall  of  the  next  room  where  he 
slept  and  caress  the  bare  sheathing  in  an  agony  of  tenderness, 
whispering  and  telling  him  what  had  come  to  her.  Once, 
catching  sight  of  her  face  in  the  mirror,  she  was  afraid,  so 
ravaged  was  it  by  weeping,  so  tragic  her  look  of  desolation. 
For  a  year  she  had  lived  under  the  same  roof  with  him,  with- 
out knowing. 

"  God  was  weary  of  my  stupidity,"  she  told  herself 
humbly.     "  He  is  punishing  me  now." 

Then  she  would  sit  with  her  aching  head  in  her  hands  and 
try  to  write. 


It  was  breakfast  time  next  morning  before  Joan's  note 
and  her  absence  were  discovered.  This  note  purported  to  be 
an  arrow  indicating  the  direction  she  had  taken,  but  any 
calm-minded  person  might  have  remarked  that  not  once  did 
she  actually  commit  herself.  Jerry  was  not  calm-minded. 
He  was  a  madman.  He  refused  even  then  to  believe  that 
she  was  not  somewhere  near  by,  and  he  rushed  about  the 
tiny  house  like  an  infuriated  giant,  looking  everywhere  but 
in  the  ink-well  for  a  possible  hiding  place.  He  even  tore 
down  to  the  beach  and  scanned  the  open  mile  in  either 
direction   for  evidence  of  her.     Then,   returning  to  the 


364  BLIND  WISDOM 

bungalow,  took  Lily  Gray  and  Jenny  to  task  as  though  they 
were  in  conspiracy  to  rob  him. 

"  What  have  you  done  with  her?"  he  bellowed  irration- 
ally. 

Lily,  palsied  with  terror,  could  only  stare  back.  Was  it 
possible  that  by  her  confession  of  the  evening  before  she 
had  precipitated  this  crisis,  had  driven  Joan  forth?  And 
now  she  saw  by  Jerry's  face  that  it  was  only  Joan  who 
mattered.  The  sim  shone  in  upon  the  pretty  breakfast  table, 
upon  Jenny,  stricken  with  surprise,  waiting  to  serve  them, 
but  for  Lily  the  suns  of  a  lifetime  had  set.  She  knew  by 
the  quality  of  her  love  that  she  must  tell  him.  She  yearned 
to  him  where  he  stood,  beaten,  in  the  doorway,  his  eyes  on 
the  inscrutable  road  which  Joan  had  taken.  She  must  tell 
him  and  suffer  the  consequences;  yet  how  to  begin?  She 
sat  twisting  her  hands,  her  face  crumpled  with  despair,  and 
presently  he  turned  again,  demanding: 

"  You  must  know  something.  You,  Jenny  ?  Lily, 
you Ah !  "    He  was  merciless  in  his  satisfaction. 

He  came  over  and  shook  Lily  roughly  by  the  shoulders. 

"  What  do  you  know  ?  Speak  out !  Every  minute  of 
this  is  a  year  from  my  life.    What  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  I  was  to  blame,"  whimpered  Lily  cringing.  "  Please, 
Jer — Mr.  Callendar,  you  hurt!  I  never  meant  she  should 
take  this  way.    I  had  no  idea  when  I  said " 

"  Then  you  did  say  something.  Oh,  I  might  have  known 
it  was  the  work  of  a  meddler." 

He  threw  himself  into  a  chair  and  took  his  head  in  his 
hands. 

"  You  don't  know  what  you've  done,  you  don't  know  what 
you've  done.  I'm  responsible  for  that  child — and  now  God 
knows  what  she's  gotten  into.  It's  all  your  fault.  No,  it's 
all  mine.    But  what  did  you  say  to  her  ?  " 

Lily  lifted  a  tear-stained  face.    At  the  Day  of  Resurrec- 


IN  WHICH  LILY  TELLS  A  LIE  365 

tlon  she  would  hardly  feel  more  open  to  judgment  and  divine 
wrath,  for,  as  she  had  said,  Jerry  was  her  god. 

"  Don't  look  at  me,"  she  commanded  with  a  certain  austere 
dignity.  "  I  told  her  I — I  cared  for  you  jest  like  she— she 
done  for  Mr.  Ballou." 

"  You  told  her  that ! "  His  surprise  and  confusion  were 
painful.  "  Oh,  Lily ! "  In  the  tone  was  charity,  but  never 
quite  forgiveness.  And  at  last,  "  What  else  did  you  lead  her 
to  believe  ?  " 

Lily  began  to  sob ;  she  sobbed  heart-brokenly. 

"  I'll  die  o'  shame;  I  told  her  I  thought  you '* 

He  started  up. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  see  it  all !   What  did  she  answer  ?  " 

*'  She  asked  me  if  I  was  sure." 

"  Oh,  a  thousand  '  damns ' !    Of  course  you  said  *  Yes '  ?  " 

Lily's  sobs  were  her  only  reply. 

"And  when  did  this  conference  take  place?" 

"  Last  night." 

He  rushed  to  the  telephone  and  gave  a  number.  Lily's 
sobs  ceased  precipitately,  and  she  listened  with  strained 
faculties. 

"The  Hotel  Hillcrest?  Room  clerk,  please.  Is  Mr. 
Bret  Ballou  still  registered  there?  " 

The  receiver  was  dropped  like  a  burning  brand. 

"  He  left  at  midnight,"  reported  Jerry  dully. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Callendar,  forgive  me,  forgive  me.  Tell  me 
how  to  help  you ! " 

Jerry  put  aside  Lily's  clinging  hands. 

"  I'll  have  to  dress.  You  can  get  me  an  automobile.  I'm 
going  to  Newport." 

Half  an  hour  later  the  hired  chauffeur  turned  to  his  dis- 
traught fare  with  the  apology: 

"  It's  worn-out  macadam,  sir.  I  can't  make  no  better 
time.    Is  the  matter  urgent  ?  " 


366  BLIND  WISDOM 

"  It's  so  urgent  that  I'll  take  all  risks  to  your  car.  Never 
mind  the  tires.     Let  her  out." 

With  the  result  that  a  mile  from  their  destination  the 
second-rate  car  was  invalided  with  a  broken  spring,  and 
Jerry  walked  or  ran  the  rest  of  the  distance.  He  had  heard 
Ballou  say  that  his  yacht  was  in  port,  and  he  was  haunted 
by  the  fear  that  aboard  it  he  had  spirited  Joan  away.  Fum- 
ing at  each  second  of  delay,  he  chartered  a  motor  boat  and 
with  his  pilot  put  out  into  the  harbor. 

"  The  'Althea '  ?  Oh,  she  has  been  here  for  some  time," 
said  the  fellow.  "  I  haven't  noticed  to-day.  Yes,  there  she 
is,  the  little  one.     Pretty,  ain't  she  ?    Got  friends  on  board  ?  " 

"  Yes,  friends,"  mumbled  Jerry,  twitching,  and  the  other 
thought  that  he  had  the  manner  of  a  neurasthenic. 

"  It's  the  pace  that  does  for  'em,"  he  mused  complacently^, 
"  Guess  I'm  glad  I  don't  belong  to  the  high  life ! " 

He  was  bringing  his  neat  craft  alongside  the  companion- 
way. 

"  Think  you  can  make  it  ?    Steady,  there Want  me 

to  wait,  eh  ?  " 

Five  minutes  later  his  passenger  came  down  the  swinging 
steps,  looking  like  one  who  has  come  hard  up  against  a  wall. 
He  had  found  the  captain  enjoying  a  morning  siesta.  Most 
of  the  crew  were  on  shore  and  there  was  no  indication  that 
a  cruise  was  contemplated.  No,  Captain  Anderson  did  not 
know  the  whereabouts  of  his  employer.  He  had  received 
no  word.  His  Scotch  face  was  so  honest  that  Jerry  was 
convinced  he  spoke  the  truth.  But  where  now  ?  There  was 
just  a  chance  that  Ballou  had  gone  to  New  York. 

"  When's  the  next  train  west,"  he  asked  the  boatman,  "  to 
connect  with  the  Shore  Line  express  ?  " 

He  was  told  that  he  could  just  make  it,  and  in  the  early 
afternoon  sank  exhausted  into  a  drawing-room  seat  at 
Providence.    All  afternoon  he  sat  staring  out  the  window  at 


IN  WHICH  LILY  TELLS  A  LIE  367 

the  kaleidoscope  of  late  September  colors,  seeing  nothing, 
knowing  nothing  but  his  anxiety.  He  alternated  between 
rage  at  Lily  and  rage  at  himself.  Oh,  how  clumsily  he  had 
played  with  Joan !  It  was  not  until  the  purple  twilight  had 
taken  unto  itself  the  day  that  he  awoke  to  the  needs  of  his 
inner  man  and  remembered  he  had  had  nothing  to  eat  since 
the  night  before.  Stumbling  into  the  dining  car,  he  sat 
down  and  gave  an  order,  but  when  the  food  was  placed 
before  him  he  was  too  nervously  exhausted  to  eat. 

"What's  the  matter,  Boss?  Anything  wrong?"  de- 
manded a  mellifluous  voice. 

Jerry  smiled  wanly. 

"  Everything's  wrong  but  the  dinner.  I  dare  say  that's 
all  right.     Bring  me  some  coffee." 

It  was  evening  when  he  moved  like  an  automaton  with 
thronging  crowds  below  the  blue  spangled  dome  of  the 
Grand  Central  Terminal,  to  the  door  marked  "  Cab  Service." 
The  taxi  tunnel  was  choking  with  fumes  from  the  exhausts 
and  a  long  line  of  travellers  waited.  Jerry  thought  of  cer- 
tain passages  of  The  Inferno,  of  tortured  souls  performing 
hideous  tasks,  amid  noise  and  gaseous  fogs,  and  was  con- 
vinced that  he  suffered  like  travail.  But  after  an  eternity  he 
was  being  swerved  out  into  the  city,  headed  for  Bret's  up- 
town apartment.  Would  he  find  her  there?  In  his  suf- 
fering he  could  not  relax,  and  sat  tense  at  the  edge  of  the 
seat,  his  hand  on  the  door.  The  driver  seemed  inspired  by 
his  own  demoniacal  haste;  only  when  they  barely  escaped 
running  down  a  pedestrian  Jerry  groaned  aloud. 

At  Bret's  apartment  house,  he  said,  "  Wait,"  and  almost 
ran  through  the  rotunda  and  straight  into  the  elevator. 

"Are  you  expected?"  asked  the  elevator  boy.  "If  not, 
you'd  better  be  announced.  Mr.  Ballou's  kind  of  touchy 
about  that." 

Then  Ballou  was  there!    Jerry  experienced  a  sudden  let- 


368  BLIND  WISDOM 

down.  He  realized  all  at  once  that  he  was  dusty  and  un- 
prepossessing. As  he  ascended  in  the  rococo  elevator  the 
mirror  gave  him  back  his  face  like  a  mockery. 

"  I'm  a  friend,"  he  explained  belatedly. 

A  man-servant  came  to  the  door. 

"  Mr.  Ballou  is  dining  just  now.     Who  shall  I  say?  " 

"  My  name's  Callendar.  Say  I'll  not  leave  till  he  sees 
me. 

The  butler  lifted  a  supercilious  eyebrow  and  made  an  in- 
ward note  to  the  effect  that  Jerry  looked  like  "  a  narsty  cus- 
tomer." 

"  I'll  give  him  your  message." 

Jerry  marched  into  a  living-room  and  assumed  a  dogged 
attitude. 

"  Sorry,  sir,"  the  servant  returned  to  tell  him.  "  He's  not 
feeling  just  right  and  is  seeing  no  one." 

"  If  he  can't  come  to  me,  I'll  go  to  him,"  stated  Jerry  with 
dynamic  calm,  and  before  the  fellow  could  block  his  way  he 
had  thrust  aside  the  portiere  of  the  dining-room.  Then  he 
stood  stock-still  on  the  threshold,  in  his  attitude  of  tortured 
strength  a  pathos  beyond  words. 

Ballou  in  a  smoking  jacket  slumped  amid  the  ruins  of  his 
dinner,  a  cross  face  protesting  the  intrusion.  He  was  alone. 
But  before  he  could  speak  Jerry's  voice  came  at  him  like  a 
blow. 

"  What  have  you  done  with  Joan  ?  " 

Bret's  dispirited  head  was  hardly  lifted  from  his  hands. 

"  What  d'ye  mean,  what  have  I  done  with  her  ?  " 

"  If  you've  kidnapped  her,"  cried  Jerry,  feeling  suddenly 
ridiculous,  "  I  demand  to  know  where  she  is !  " 

Bret  laughed  wearily.     He  made  a  deprecatory  gesture. 

"Does  this  look  like  it?  What's  the  matter  with  you, 
Callendar  ?    You're  a  sight !  " 

"  She's  gone,"  said  Jerry  dazedly.    "  She  left  the  bunga- 


IN  WHICH  LILY  TELLS  A  LIE  369 

low  last  night,  and  I  thought — I  was  afraid  she'd  gone  with 
you."    He  sank  into  a  chair  and  passed  a  hand  over  his  eyes. 

This  time  Ballou's  laugh  was  sadly  sardonic. 

"  I  wish  I  could  say  she  had,  but  she  turned  me  down  so 
hard  last  evening  there  were  no  two  ways  about  it."  He 
looked  narrowly  through  his  cigarette  smoke  as  at  the  un- 
even chances  of  Life.  "  No,  Callendar,  I  haven't  the  honor 
of  being  the  thief." 

"  Then  I  beg  your  pardon !  "  Jerry's  sigh  of  relief  was  so 
profound  that  Bret  regarded  him  with  humorous  pity.  "  But 
I've  been  half  crazy  since  we  found  her  missing.  I'll  go  on, 
then.  But  before  I  go  I  want  to  say,  whatever  impression  I 
may  have  given,  I  want  my  girl  and  I  mean  to  keep  her. 
Little  Joan  belongs  to  me." 

Ballou  winced,  but  he  managed  to  smile  philosophically; 

"  So  it  would  seem." 


CHAPTER  XXXV 
THE  HARVEST  MOON 

Jerry's  first  thought  on  leaving  Ballou  was  that  he  would 
take  an  evening  train  out  to  Crannsford,  arriving  there  by 
midnight  But  that  would  necessitate  rousing  the  Wister 
family  and  entail  a  host  of  explanations.  Besides,  he  was 
mortally  tired  and  remembered  Bret's  astonished,  "  What's 
the  matter  with  you,  Callendar?  You're  a  sight!"  "Per- 
haps I  am,"  he  decided,  throwing  himself  once  more  into 
the  taxi.  "  I'd  better  have  a  night's  rest  and  go  looking  like 
a  white  man." 

Consequently  it  was  early  afternoon  of  the  next  day  when 
he  alighted  at  the  familiar  station  of  the  New  England  town 
and  charteried  one  of  the  dilapidated  taxis  to  take  him  to  the 
Wister  home  in  Elm  Street.  Although  he  had  made  shift 
at  sleeping  he  had  in  truth  hardly  relaxed  during  the  night, 
so  impatient  was  he  for  the  day  to  come  when  he  might  be 
on  his  way  to  Joan.  It  was  the  first  of  October.  The 
weather,  reminiscent  of  summer,  held  too  a  something  sadly 
prophetic  of  approaching  doom.  In  the  streets  the  bonfires 
sent  up  blue  and  milky  clouds  of  smoke  and  made  dream-like 
the  tops  of  the  burning  maples.  During  his  journey  he  had 
been  aware  that  the  country  through  which  he  passed  was  an 
incomparable  tapestry,  vivid  or  metallic  in  coloring,  that 
never  before  had  the  wild  asters  been  stained  so  deep  a 
purple.  But  his  longing  dragged  at  his  heart.  He  had  for- 
gotten Lily  Gray  and  the  helpless  Jenny  waiting  in  his  cot- 
tage at  the  sea. 


THE  HARVEST  MOON  371 

All  along  Elm  Street  as  his  taxi  rattled  over  the  cobble- 
stones he  kept  thinking,  "  If  she  is  not  there— what  then? " 
His  hand  was  absurdly  unsteady  as  he  paid  the  driver.  He 
dashed  up  the  steps  with  an  eagerness  akin  to  pain  and, 
forgetting  quite  the  new  era  of  old  ladies,  walked  in  without 
ringing.  Immediately  he  was  confronted  by  one.  It  was 
the  old  lady  with  the  will,  and  perhaps  the  most  arrogant 
of  Mrs.  Wister's  clientele.  At  any  rate  she  wore  a  pince- 
nez  and  used  it  like  a  weapon. 

"Are  you  aware,"  demanded  this  finely  preserved  piece  of 
old  china  before  she  had  had  time  to  ascertain  that  he  was 
a  gentleman,  "  that  this  is  a  private  house,  sir  ?  " 

Jerry,  for  all  his  perturbation,  was  amused. 

"  To  the  contrary,"  he  made  her  a  low  bow,  "  I  had  for- 
gotten that  it  has  become  a  public  one.  My  apologies.  I 
am  Mrs.  Wister's  son-in-law.  Could  you  tell  me  if  she  is  at 
home?" 

He  dared  not  ask  for  Joan  and  risk  immediate  disappoint- 
ment at  her  hands.  Whatever  shock  might  be  in  store  for 
him  he  felt  that  he  could  better  endure  it  from  her  mother. 
But  now  the  Empress  Eugenie,  as  it  occurred  to  him  to  call 
her,  had  assimilated  the  details  of  his  person,  the  silver- 
mounted  stick,  an  emblem  of  gentility,  his  respectable  blue 
clothing  and  the  rather  distinguished  geography  of  his  face. 
She  regretted  her  stupidity  with  parrot-like  mumblings. 

"To  be  sure.  I'll  call  her.  Ah,  here  she  comes  now. 
My  dear,  this  young  gentleman  is  asking  for  you  and  calls 
himself  a  son-in-law.  You  are  both  to  be  congratulated ! " 
She  smiled  the  fumbling  thin-lipped  smile  of  the  very  old. 

But  Jerry  was  no  longer  aware  of  her.  He  only  knew 
that  Mrs.  Wister  had  materialized  with  anxious  aspect  and 
recognizing  at  last  a  bond  of  sympathy  between  them,  he 
took  the  frail  little  woman  in  his  arms. 

"Jerry  Callendar,  my  dear  boy ! "    She  was  overcome  with 


372  BLIND  WISDOM 

pleasure  at  the  warmth  of  his  greeting.  Moreover  since  he 
had  fallen  heir  to  such  a  substantial  fortune  she  felt  his 
support  to  be  material  as  well  as  moral.  There  was  real 
strength  and  promise  to  that  arm  he  had  put  about  her 
shoulders.  But  his  usually  laughing  eyes  tugged  at  hers 
seriously  so  that  her  pleasantries  died  on  her  lips.  She  put 
a  motherly  hand  on  his  arm. 

"Jerry,  I  hoped  you  would  come,"  she  said  significantly. 

"  Then  she  is — Joan  is  — — "  He  had  not  known  the  in- 
tensity of  his  desire,  the  strain  he  had  undergone  till  he  was 
near  reaction. 

Mrs.  Wister  drew  him  out  of  earshot  of  the  Empress 
Eugenie  before  she  relieved  his  mind. 

"  She  came  yesterday  morning  early,  and  she  looked  very 
shocking,  Jerry.  She  had  been  travelling  all  night."  And 
then,  "  No,  don't  sit  there;  Mrs.  Courtland's  cat  always  has 
that  chair.  It's  full  of  white  hairs.  Take  the  other.  I 
want  to  tell  you " 

"  Yes,  yes,  tell  me,"  he  bit  off  impatiently. 

"  No  one  was  up  but  Ellen  who  found  her  at  the  door  and 
took  her  straight  up  to  her  old  room,  then  called  me  in.  It 
was  a  shock,  you  can  imagine.  I  thought  at  first  that  she 
must  be  dreadfully  ill  but  she  would  not  explain.  .  .  . 
We  put  her  right  to  bed  and  there  she  lay  all  day  without 
volunteering  a  word  and  with  a  look  that  went  to  your  heart. 
In  the  afternoon  Lishaby  came  and  tried  to  cheer  her; 
Lishaby  sets  great  store  by  Joan,  but  she  could  do  nothing. 
I  can't  tell  you  how  apprehensive  I  felt.  Claire  had  been 
home  in  the  same  melancholy  condition  till  her  husband  came 

from  town  and  took  her  back  with  him "    Mrs.  Wister 

paused  interrogatively,  her  manner  seeming  to  say,  *'  Now 
tell  me  what  it's  all  about  I  " 

Jerry  silently  applauding  Joan's  discretion,  returned  Mrs. 
Wister  a  look,  frank,  with  reservations. 


THE  HARVEST  MOON  373 

"  If  you  please  I'd  rather  not  explain  for  the  present. 
All  I  can  say  is  there  was  a  mistake  and  Joan  left  hur- 
riedly. I've  suffered  ten  million  hells  since  yesterday 
morning." 

"  But  what  am  I  to  think  ?  "  complained  the  poor  woman 
with  a  furrowed  brow. 

"  That's  just  it,"  he  made  a  pleading  gesture.  "  Please 
make  yourself  think  that  you  think  nothing  at  all.  Oh,  I 
beg  your  pardon  for  seeming  mysterious.  Only  let  me  see 
her."  Then  fearing  that  she  might  misconstrue  his  reti- 
cence, "  She's  my  one  chance  of  happiness,"  he  revealed  in  a 
moved  voice.    "  Will  you  let  me  go  up  ?  " 

He  had  risen  with  impatience,  Mrs.  Wister  following 
dazedly. 

"  But  she's  not  here." 

"  Not  here  ? "  The  voice  was  hollow  with  fright  and 
accusation. 

"  I  only  mean  not  in  the  house,"  she  hastily  assured  him. 
"  She  would  insist  upon  dressing,  though  I  thought  she  was 
scarcely  able,  and  she's  taken  the  path  into  the  wood.  If 
you  go  that  way  you'll  be  certain  to  find  her." 

As  he  passed  through  the  hall  he  was  aware  of  that 
wavering  old  lady,  haunting  the  background  with  ghostly 
perspicacity,  the  matrimonial  affairs  of  the  daughters  of  the 
house  revivifying  the  staled  champagne  of  her  life.  The 
pince-nez  were  sleuthing  after  Jerry  while  her  jaws  held 
slightly  apart  and  askew  as  though  she  were  about  to  crack  a 
difficult  nut.  Mrs.  Wister,  perfectly  oblivious,  was  thinking 
intensely : 

"Jerry's  all  right,  but  there's  no  banking  on  Joan." 

Meanwhile  Jerry  went  hoping  up  the  embankment  into  the 
wood.  Copper-colored  leaves  strewed  the  path  like  the  resi- 
due of  some  great  banquet.  Overhead  billowed  a  blue  silk 
canopy.    He  remembered  that  autumn  day  seven  years  be- 


374  BLIND  WISDOM 

fore  when  he  had  come  questing  for  Joan  and  found  her  an 
outlaw,  fleeing  not  so  much  parental  wrath  as  the  persuasion 
of  false  standards.  As  his  feet  crashed  crisply  into  the 
wood,  the  leaves  fell  pensively  about  him,  scarcely  dis- 
tinguishable from  the  pale  yellow  butterflies,  drifting  in  the 
wake  of  summer.  Butterfly  and  leaf,  each  touched  him  with 
gossamer  lightness,  and  in  the  fairylike  contact  he  seemed  to 
feel  the  pulse  of  all  delicate,  mysterious  life.  The  boles  of 
the  oaks  beneath  their  glorified  branches  were  a  gray  that 
spoke  of  lavender.  Intruding  farther  into  the  wood  he 
found  himself  walking  in  twilight,  feet  muted  in  moss,  a  con- 
fidant of  the  deep-bosomed,  whispering  trees.  Where  was 
she,  his  little  lost  one  ?  Although  he  knew  that  soon  he  must 
come  upon  her  this  longing  seemed  more  than  he  could  bear. 
He  felt  the  great  loneliness  of  the  human  soul,  doomed  to 
pursue  its  own  evanescent  desire.  He  sought  the  fulfill- 
ment of  love  but  other  men  who  had  gained  that  consumma- 
tion still  yearned  on,  toward  what.  .  .  .?  Some  other 
intangible  terminus,  ever  breathless,  unrequited.     .     .    . 

Now  he  would  mistake  a  waving  branch  for  Joan's  cloth- 
ing, a  tree  masquerading  as  a  person,  and  still  he  plunged 
onward.  He  had  forgotten  that  the  trail  inevitably  ended 
at  Morrow's  oak  till  he  emerged  in  the  aureole  of  cleared 
ground  about  the  tree.  And  there  at  last  he  saw  her  upon 
whom  all  his  hopes  converged.  She  was  leaning  against  the 
rugged  trunk  as  though  for  support,  something  peculiarly 
defenseless  in  her  attitude.  A  long  cape  fell  sorrowing 
about  her.  The  sturdy  tree  seemed  fathering  her,  its 
muscular  arms  straining  down  protectively.  She  wore  no 
hat  and  her  forehead  was  white  and  bare  as  that  of  a  sick 
child.  She  impressed  him  as  the  most  wistful  thing  on 
earth. 

"Joan,"  he  called  joyously,  and  again,  "Joan,"  as  though 
he  had  not  spoken  her  name  for  years.    She  had  been  gone 


THE  HARVEST  MOON  '375 

less  than  forty-eight  hours  but  his  search  had  seemed  to 
cover  an  eternity. 

Immediately  she  saw  him  and  though  she  did  not  speak 
or  move  her  whole  being  underwent  exquisite  change.  As 
he  approached  he  was  shocked  by  the  pallor  of  her  Uttle  oval 
face,  set  in  its  spraying  hair.  Nevertheless  he  was  like  a 
parent  who,  after  frantic  search  for  its  lost  one,  suffers  a 
revulsion  of  feeling  and  flays  the  child  it  loves,  His  joy 
was  supplanted  by  righteous  indignation. 

"  How  dared  you  ?  "  he  panted  with  the  remembrance  of 
his  anguish.  "  How  dared  you  run  away  ?  How  dared  you 
leave  me?  Didn't  you  know  that  you  were  mine  and  I'd 
never  give  you  up  to  another  man  or  your  own  delusions  ?  " 

The  cape  fell  away  from  her  shoulders;  she  listened  in 
ecstasy  to  his  anger. 

"  When  we  woke  yesterday  you  were  gone  and  the  devil 
was  to  pay  for  every  one.  Bret  had  disappeared  too  and  the 
coincidence  was  enough  to  drive  a  sane  man  crazy.  Oh,  I 
was  mad,  I  tell  you.  Such  days  take  years  from  men's 
lives,  Joan,  and  I  suffered  horribly  till  I'd  located  him." 

She  spoke  then  for  the  first  time. 

"Jerry,  you  didn't — ^you  didn't  seek  him  out  and  let  him 
think  that  you  thought " 

Her  face  was  suffused  with  color.     He  asked  grimly: 

"  Wasn't  that  what  you  meant  me  to  do  by  your  note  ? 
You  didn't  suppose  for  a  minute  that  I  wouldn't  track  you  ?  " 

"As  you  cared  more  for  some  one  else  than  for  me,"  she 
whispered  bleakly,  "  I  saw  no  reason  why  you  should  track 
me.  And  anyway  I  wanted  to  give  you  a  chance  to  be  free 
of  me — to  be  happy." 

"  Happy,  without  you?  "  He  laughed  mirthlessly.  "And 
now  about  this  Lily  Gray  piece  of  nonsense.  But  first  tell 
me  how  Ballou  happened  to  go  back  to  the  city  that  night  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  because  I  sent  him  away  from  me."    The  but- 


376  BLIND  WISDOM 

terfly  leaves  descended  on  her  hair  and  stirred  him  pro- 
foundly. "Jerry,  I'm  so  ashamed.  I'd  give  my  right  hand 
i£  it  had  never  happened.  You  should  have  known  it  was 
just  a  schoolgirl  infatuation.  And  that  night  when  you 
drove  us  to  the  beach  I  suddenly  saw  the  real  Bret  pop,  like 
a  jack-in-the-box,  out  of  the  one  I'd  thought  him  to  be. 
And  so,"  she  elucidated  simply,  "  I  told  him  to  go." 

Her  hand  had  hooked  itself  into  Jerry's  coat  lapel. 

"  Thank  God,"  he  breathed.  "And  you,  you  didn't  sup- 
pose I  cared  for  Lily.  It's  fantastic.  But  I  can  see  that 
you  did.  Poor  Lily — we  must  be  good  to  her  because  of 
what  her  confession  must  have  cost,  but  such  a  thought  had 
nev-er  entered  my  mind." 

Joan  clapped  a  hand  over  his  mouth. 

"  Not  that,  Jerry.  Please,  never  a  lie  between  us.  I 
myself  heard  her  say  to  you  one  day  at  the  cottage,  '  I'm 
glad  you  need  me.  You've  no  idea  how  a  woman  needs  to 
be  needed.'    What  did  she  mean  by  that  ? " 

His  face  was  a  study. 

"  I  can't  recall  ever  using  such  words  to  her.  And  yet 
they  have  a  familiar  ring.  Were  we  at  work  ?  "  He  cross- 
examined  memory  and  was  rewarded  for  his  effort.  "  I 
have  it,  those  are  my  heroine's  lines  in  the  new  play.  I  must 
have  been  dictating  and  Lily  was  probably  repeating,  to  keep 
the  connection.    You  ridiculous  child !  " 

When  she  saw  the  truth  in  his  face  she  went  limp. 

"  But,  Jerry,  all  this  year  you've  never  shown " 

"  Do  you  suppose,"  he  caught  her  close  in  tender  amuse- 
ment, "  I'd  have  married  you  if  you  hadn't  seemed  to  me  of 
all  women  most  lovely  and  rare?  When  I  met  you  I  had 
been  '  looking  under  my  thoughts  for  you '  all  my  life.  I 
couldn't  have  protected  you  from  myself  all  these  months  if 
my  love  hadn't  been  real.  I  know,"  he  went  on  hoarsely, 
*'  that  I've  never  let  myself  go,  I've  never  kissed  you  as  I'm 


THE  HARVEST  MOON  377 

going  to  kiss  you  now.  Lift  your  face,  darling,  and  let  me 
show  you  how  I  love  you." 

And  when  she  had  been  wooed  by  his  kisses  and  had  in 
turn  explored  with  her  lips  the  beloved  territory  of  his  face, 
she  fell  to  weeping. 

"  Oh,  Jerry,  let  me  cry  luxuriously.  I  have  been  so  miser- 
able and  now  I'm  so  happy.  I  want  to  tell  you  in  terms  of 
numbers  and  pounds  and  riches  how  I  love  you.  There's 
no  end  to  the  variety  of  it.  You  shall  see.  And  I  want  to 
pretend  for  a  while  that  it's  all  new  and  we're  just  mar- 
ried.   ..." 

"  But  it  is  all  new,"  he  pointed  out  gravely,  "  and  we  are 
just  married.  And  soon  we  shall  go  home  and  scrape  to- 
gether some  fagots  and  build  our  hearth  fire." 

"  Like  picture-book  people,"  she  wept  delightedly,  and 
loving  him  too  deeply  for  shyness,  "  How  have  we  spent 
a  year  together  without  knowing?  " 

Already  she  was  jealous  of  time.  He  laughed  with  a 
shadow  of  irony. 

"  It  was  only  you  who  did  not  know,  dear.    .    .    .*' 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me,  Jerry  ? " 

"  If  I'd  told  you  you  wouldn't  have  believed  me.  No,  you 
had  to  find  out  for  yourself." 

She  put  her  arms  about  him. 

"  I'll  try  so  hard  to  make  it  up  to  you,  dear,"  she  promised 
in  the  flute-like  voice  love  takes.  "  There's  never  really 
been  any  one  else."  And  he  knew  how  bitterly  she  regretted 
the  little  that  Bret  had  had  of  her. 

It  was  past  now  and  loyalty  would  always  keep  her  true 
to  him  but  he  was  old  enough  to  realize  that  youth  turns  to 
youth  and  in  their  life  together  there  would  inevitably  be 
times  when  her  heart  played  truant.  Some  day  she  would 
still  be  dancing  in  sunlight  when  he  had  retired  to  sit  in 
shadows.    The  one  thing  that  Bret  could  have  given  her 


378  BUND  WISDOM 

Jerry  did  not  possess.  .  .  .  But  to  admit  tliat  alloy 
would  be  to  rob  her  of  the  perfection  of  happiness.  Instead 
he  buried  his  head  in  her  cloak. 

"  I'm  getting  on.  Little  Joan.  I'm  almost  forty.  Soon 
you'll  have  an  old  man  on  your  hands." 

"  Forty ! "  she  scoffed,  mothering  him  with  a  protective- 
ness  as  beautiful  as  it  was  comic.  "  What's  forty  ?  I'll  bar 
the  door  against  time,  sir !  I'll  cram  each  minute  full  of 
joy  so  a  year  shall  seem  a  lifetime.    .    .    ." 

He  closed  his  eyes,  inhaling  her  deliciousness. 

"  I  really  believe  you  will,  my  fairy  bride."  He  straight- 
ened at  length  and  his  look  of  sadness  gave  way  to  whimsi- 
cality. "  Come,  let  us  go,  for  '  the  way  home  lies  through  a 
deep,  dark  wood.' " 

They  moved  with  difficulty  because,  fatuously,  it  did  not 
occur  to  them  to  walk  single  file.  But  once  she  whispered, 
"  Let  us  hurry,  before  the  world  comes  to  an  end,"  and 
again,  when  the  way  grew  lonely,  she  stood  tiptoe  and  gave 
Jerry  the  tiniest  kiss  on  the  cheek.     His  eyes  sttmg  tears. 

"  111  make  you  happy  as  long  as  I  live,"  he  vowed,  but  it 
wasn't  as  though  she  heard  him  say  it ;  it  was  as  though  she 
heard  him  think  it. 

In  soberer  mood  she  was  marvelling  that  in  her  family 
there  had  been  four  marriages,  her  mother's  marriage  for 
fortune  which  had  ended  in  poverty,  Agnes'  gamble  for 
prestige,  that  had  proven  disillusionment,  and  Claire's  in- 
fatuation, now  degenerated  into  jealousy  and  distrust.  But 
she  and  Jerry  had  been  friends, — upon  friendship  had  they 
built  their  house  and,  lo,  a  light  now  bloomed  in  every 
window. 

Emerging  from  the  wood  they  threaded  the  choked  path 
to  the  garden.  Below,  asters  and  chrysanthemums  made 
stars  in  the  leafage  and  caught  the  last  glance  of  the  sun. 
But  the  com  was  folded  into  rustling  tents,  the  pumpkins 


THE  HARVEST  MOON  379 

squatted  lazing  among  them  and  on  the  night  air  was  the 
thrilling  scent  of  grapes.  They  saw  Lishaby  at  her  door 
and  called  to  her.  Columbus  had  died  the  previous  spring 
and  his  famous  wheelbarrow,  no  longer  in  state  of  locomo- 
tion, remained  a  derelict  at  the  door.  He  might  but  just 
have  dropped  it  there.  Lishaby,  who  during  their  wedded 
life  had  kept  up  a  continuous  raillery  at  his  expense,  was 
left  with  the  last  jest  turned  desolate  on  her  lips.  When 
she  heard  the  Callendars  she  blundered  uncertainly  along  the 
terrace  in  their  direction. 

"  Half  blind,"  Joan  whispered  to  Jerry  before  she  rushed 
into  the  old  woman's  arms.  She  whispered  in  Lishaby's  ear 
and  felt  her  feeble  frame  vibrate  with  the  current  of  her 
own  excitement. 

"  So  he's  come  fer  yer — ^yer  man?  Why,  Mister  Jerry, 
how  be  yer  ?  "  She  groped  for  Jerry's  hand.  "  Land  o' 
Goshun,  now  Jo-ann's  got  no  call  to  be  stayin'  on ! "  The 
voice  shrilled  a  little  and  snapped  on  the  last  note  like  a 
taut  string.    "  What  be  /  goin*  to  do  ?  " 

And  when  they  laughed  tenderly  at  her: 

"  I  suspicioned  the  two  of  yer  was  on  the  outs  an'  to  my- 
self, sez  I,  'She's  come  hom'  to  stay.'  Not  that  I'd  be 
wantin'  trouble  atween  yer.  But  now  I'm  lef  lonesomelike 
again." 

Jerry  peered  at  her  closely  and  saw  that  her  eyeS  were 
indeed  filming.  Over  the  erstwhile  racy  face  with  its  story 
of  wrinkles  the  pallor  of  age  was  obtaining. 

"  My  eyesight  ain't  what  it  uster  be,"  she  spoke  queru- 
lously. "  I  won't  never  do  no  more  quiltin'.  Mister  Jerry, 
nor  mess  about  in  my  garden.  I  jest  got  to  sit  in  the  dark 
an'  wait  for  the  Day  o'  Doom.  An'  I  never  was  a  body 
to  be  patient.     Be  you  takin'  her  away  ?  " 

"  We'll  come  often,"  Jerry  consoled  gently,  "  but  you  must 
let  me  have  her  now,  Lishaby.    We've  a  nest  to  build  be- 


38o  BLIND  WISDOM 

fore  snowfall,"  and  he  pinched  Joan's  cheek  where  it  rested 
against  his  coat. 

They  talked  of  their  plans  for  Joan's  mother,  of  changes 
in  old  Crannsford  and  even  of  Columbus.  Lishaby  wept  in 
the  sparse  way  of  the  aged, 

"  Young  folks  is  for  young  folks,"  she  sighed  with  in- 
herent bewilderment  that  the  generations  look  forward — not 
backward,  "  an'  ole  folks  is  for  ole.  So  go  along  with  yer 
an'  let  me  make  the  best  on  it.  I  wouldn't  complain  if  it 
warn't  fer  not  bein'  able  to  see.  I'd  give  a  right  smart  lot 
this  minute  for  a  good  look  at  the  two  o'  yer  with  love-light 
in  yer  faces,  an'  at  them  frost  chrysanthemums  down  yon- 
der, an'  that  yaller  harvest  moon."  She  wiped  her  eyes  with 
her  work-ennobled  hand. 

"  But,  Lishaby,"  Jerry  bent  over  her  with  the  inspired  air 
of  a  conjuror.  In  the  eyrie,  sweet-scented  dusk  he  might 
have  been  revealing  secrets  of  necromancy.  "  You  have 
only  to  believe  to  see  us  with  love  in  our  faces  and  those 
chrysanthemums  in  the  garden  and  that  Jack-o'-lantern 
moon  caught  up  in  the  trees.  It's  all  yours,  Lishaby,  for 
the  simplicity  and  the  grandeur  of  faith."  She  felt  the  light 
touch  of  his  plausibility  like  a  wand.  "  Lishaby,  men  and 
women  don't  see  with  their  eyes.  They  see  with  their 
hearts!  " 

Then  he  and  Joan  passed  through  the  stricken  garden  with 
just  that  elasticity  in  their  step  of  wayfarers  going  home. 
But  Lishaby  with  her  faltering,  one-sided  walk,  passed 
slowly  back  along  the  terrace  to  her  house,  stumbling  against 
her  "  ole  man's  "  wheelbarrow  as  she  did  so.  In  the  door- 
way she  lingered,  her  acute,  wrinkled  face  betraying  the  con- 
flict within.  A  long  time  she  stood  there,  a  gaunt  figure  in 
the  dusk,  pondering  the  principle  that  Jerry  had  proffered. 
"  Men  and  women  don't  see  with  their  eyes,  they  see  with 
their  hearts."    What  if  it  were  true  and  darkness  held  no 


THE  HARVEST  MOON  381 

constrictions?  She  strained  to  embrace  such  radiant 
philosophy.  And  suddenly  her  need  was  answered.  She 
felt  a  warm  rush  of  thankfulness.  Aided  by  this  inner 
light,  the  October  garden  with  its  magic  moon,  the  flowers 
that  she  loved  and  the  significance  of  those  two  absorbed 
figures  became  dearly  distinct — nothing  of  that  picture  was 
lost  upon  her ! 


THE  END 


A     000  129  548    4 


